Malaria! - Lay lady lay

Song For A Lady On the day of breasts and small hips the window pocked with bad rain, rain coming on like a minister, we coupled, so sane and insane. We lay like spoons while the sinister rain dropped like flies on our lips and our glad eyes and our small hips. “The room is so cold with rain,” you said and you, feminine you, with your flower said novenas to my ankles and elbows. You are a national product and power. Oh my swan, my drudge, my dear wooly rose, even a notary would notarize our bed as you knead me and I rise like bread.