Ducks in a Bond


The duck, the female of the species, has a corkscrew
Vagina, as lengthy as her intestines, spiraling in helices

And when she likes that nice male with a corkscrew penis
She will lift her tail feathers, flex the walls

Of the genital tract, and keep the channel open
For full penetration. Males who try to force their way

In – rape in anthropology – have no way of getting inside
The female, struggling to get their man corkscrews inside.

And this is the beauty of ducks mating. It is gentle, beautifully
Choreographed, slow in thrush. The beauty of the beast.

It seems ducks have evolved ways to nullify forced entry
From rival males. This is one beautiful edition of evolution.

When humans have built a culture where women are idolized for their bodies
Forced into sexual encounters, ostracized for no reason

Slaved by their bodies and paraded as trophies, ducks it seems
Have miracle vaginas, their own chastity belts

Waiting until true love knocks on their door. And this is not biological feminism
Nor is it nature’s prudishness, it is biology showing how it’s done.

And kinky and twisted is love for the ducks – they don’t even
Have to make a duckface. Whoever said love cannot be perfect

Would not have known ducks. Choice is a beautiful thing
And what is more beautiful than the choice of one lover

Selected by perfect biological congruence. Natural selection
Has it seems sculpted the perfect couple in perfect love.

Donald and Daisy were always meant to be together
Their bodies simply knew.


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