Nigel Holt
Coprocabana
Before I kiss her lips, my love's excreta
stuns me with its sainted stink; her stool
possesses power of a love much sweeter
than the flower of her words; her steaming jewel
(disgorged apple of her ordured eyelet)
beguiles me with its chthonic newborn breath;
turns asphodel to petals of love's violet:
O the shudder when I breathe its life in death!
Her waste, her wormcast, fecula and guano
are lovelier than any beauty's flax;
her nightsoil, dirt, her faecal matter, are no
mere substitute for what my love still lacks;
her shit's far finer than a ripe Romano,
for no love eats like the coprophiliac's.
- from The Perversion Sonnets
