I grow; my chest shows me slowly upwardly and mammary toward O My Love! O Goddess help me be for that fecund femininity

 I grow; my chest shows me

slowly upwardly and mammary

toward O My Love! O Goddess help me be

for that fecund femininity

(Never a possibility! Never perfectly!)

to serve with verve, as saved slave-neuter'd

the Better. Did not I peregrinating gait to make

from untamed men did to so wend:

forgiving not Jesus who me does not please

for such absolution of Maggy's sins

when she loved freely now'n again

unworthy and hoary Danglers AND then

pregnantly must amend and end

HIS giz'-made accidence-- HIS pleasure--

HER never never so to sever

rapine rogue's mischance, Romance zero

from which SHE goes, relents.

I know: I need abort

every cavort that butts; the Balls then

surrender happy end, tender to the Better

Bosoms' bondage to Woman Kind!

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