EGGS BETWEEN HER LEGS

She who walks at night must not wear white

She is known as the thrift collector

A bag of money set on her head

Voluptuous mound on her chest

Her waist plan

s behind a load 

With eggs between her legs

Amidst bushes she has unexpected visitors

Who come not for the money alone

But a share of her eggs

With teeth they crack this shells

Lapping up yoke and albumen

The kingdom suffereth violence

So they take it by force

From behind and within her carnal walls

Till there is no remnant

Of the bricks of her walls

Lovers by force

Lovers in abundance and lack

They burrow into the debris

Not leaving behind a thing is the plan