by H.G. Peterson

H.G. Peterson is a world renown shallows fisherman
and crab col-lector. His poem “Dearth” was the first sonnet
ever to be read on the sur-face of The Moon (during the Apollo 14 Mission).

Trepidations of Light and Shadow with Crenellations of Fuschia, Mauve and Indigo

With trepidation I watch the girl
Her dress Versace and necklace pearl
Her graceful walk makes me wish and pray
For I hope to grow like her someday

Her stomach pitched like an army tent
Belly button to the outside bent
Bulged with a beautiful parasite
My heart so burns with morose delight

A bosom so ripe and swollen dear
For a day which looks it might be near
When the midwife needs water a’boil
And they’ll be needful of a good muyl.

I can see my stomach’s flat and plain
Devoid of life just brings so much pain
How I long for that cord and that sac
For milk-ripe breasts and an aching back

Woe is me, I cannot harbor life
It stabs my heart like a flaming knife
The great sacred bond betwixt two souls
So sad not to know in this male role

Birthing my biology forbids
This lack of uterus makes no kids
My urethra cannot let them pass
Th’other one leads to feces and gas

No vagina between my two legs
No ovaries guide multitude eggs
“Fern child,” my quote catachrestical
To hell with the quite male testicle

That nice warm glow, my face, won’t adorn
Oh, unto me shall never be born
Tears fall again as she hurries past
Ah, the shape of her well-rounded ass

I remember, my thoughts quickly cease
Knocked up’s alright, but I want a piece