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Birth of Venus

By Joe Painter

She was stockinged in a most unusual way,

legs protruding from an egg

as white as sea foam

with two craters – black holes, really –

where they’d thrust out the shell

and dangled, glinting nylon.

She’d hatched in heels, three inches,

lipstick red, which

fulfilled the promise of her legs.

Her head popped madly from a third shell-hole

like a worm from a bitten apple;

she looked a knockout ‘til the wind had got hold of her perm.

The rest was smooth

as owt – you could have boiled it right there

and served for breakfast.

Always laid with love! declared the box,

as if women like this

came in six-packs, by the dozen.

Oh, how I would have liked

to pry off her crown

and let soldiers taste her yolk.


Joe Painter is a secondary school teacher from Reading, UK. He works in Wimbledon; hopes his tennis would improve by osmosis on moving to the area have so far proved unfounded.

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