Cocks and Mares


Every man wants to be a stud.
His nature drives him.
Hanging between his legs
The heavy weight of scrotum.
He wants to bring forth God.
He wants God to come
Out of those common eggs.
But he can't tell his cock
From a rooster's. However,
I'm a horse, he says,
Prancing up and down.
What am I doing here
In the hen house?
Diddle you. Doodle doo.
In this fashion he goes on
Pretending that women are fowl
And that he is a stallion.
You can hear him crowing
When the wild mares
Come up out of the night fields
Whistling through their nostrils
In their rhythmic pounding,
In the sound of their deep breathing.


Ruth Stone, What Love Comes To: New and Selected Poems, Copper Canyon Press, 2008.