Part 23, in which Wife ends the career of an aspiring young poet and launches bass sonic chill.

“Titanic Ice-Cream (or the Curse of The Willow Owl, a Ballad)”
(a poem by Izabella Schoener)

There’s an old willow-tree
but I whisper; he screams
so he fucks; and I sleep
he gets tired; he’s weak
after that, it’s a draw
off to shopping we go
hunky dory the flow
like some ages ago
when he kisses the cake
laughter crumbles my stake
and they say I’m a witch
but I don’t know of which
so besides, and below
there’s a creek that does flow
when the make-up shakes him
I continue to sin
so titanic, who cares
give me ice-cream
or stare!