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Named for the virgin, you love to give the lie to that.

Come again stop-outs, messy party-goers,

fill our gaps. Make merry, bright!

At family-planning you are paths ahead. Bed-hoppers –

putting yourselves about. No self-respecting gardener

may censor your loose living. Loving,

tanned, eat-me-orange; centuries have passed,

and still you sweet, wanton faces beggar discipline,

glint within the roving eye of sun.

Quite contrary, you spit-spray your caterpillar seed

like fire – burn brassy, romp regardless,

scramble to a cottage wall,

race borders, ring a swing. Generous liberals,

holding your official shaggy-heads-

together parliaments.

Emblazoning these patios with roguish charm,

you take them one by one –

our safe, safe seats. Such gains!

From Fighting Talk (Headland Publications, 2005)

© Cathy Grindrod

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