Virility can become a jacket

And not the kind that keeps you warm

Rather the practical; uncomfortable kind

That protects you from self-harm

 

Unless I sire like the rabbit

Knowing I'm impuissant to provide for my brood

Decent living and food

Due to the exorbitant number

Or unless I lie on a pallet

While my spouse works until they're as worn as a drabbet

While I all-day slothfully slumber,

 

Virility is extraneous

For I have nothing to prove

I am beyond the age

Of worrying about someone's rebuke

 

Besides, who benefits

From such a chaotic containment

Certainly not me-

I only end up falling into dissatisfaction; derangement

 

I surmise the beneficiary

Of such a catastrophic cascade

Would be someone whose maturity

Ceased after 10th grade