As I press down with my cock pressed into
the small of your back flames catch, your veils burn,
goosebumps shiver across your ass. You, who
Yeats called Hag, Cailleach Bhéirre, the Sidhe’s Slattern,
never despaired as he claimed you did. Crones
get laid like the rest of us. As I cup
your ass, tongue in your erogenous zones.
As you arch your back, your cunt’s tooth’d scallop
lips spread wide. As you rise the way souls grown
tongue-wise rise and turn and kiss me with that
haunted hunger I’ve never felt elsewhere
but as you cum. Taut g-spot. A Crone’s own.
We’re Yates’ Scary Fairy and Saucy Brat.
Rise like mischief, like Sidhe, Host of the Air.
The Host of the Air and Sidhe (pronounced, Shee) are two of the names given to the Gaelic fairy-folk in stories and legends. The Irish poet, W. B. Yeats, pronounced Cailleach Bhéirre as, “Clooth-na-Bare,” the name of an old school fae who wanted to die because she had grown old and no one would love her. Slattern is a Victorian word meaning prostitute or a sexually promiscuous woman.