Intercourse

Came
And come
It drools out
Of the mouth of the river.

From the head it shoots,
Into
Maternal, a lake made of love
Or maybe lust
Yet the feeling
Makes it both the same.

The soldiers,
Dressed in white
Stumble amongst their new home
Wadded deep in the waters of the lake
Assembled they march in search,
Of the seed.

The lake,
It splits,
Into two streams
And the armada
Of swimming men
Diverge,
Half to left
The others to the right.

Half will die,
The rest will find,
But only one will,
Fertilize.