Maui was crushed between the thighs of the Death Goddess (a sleeping giantess) white attempting to conquer Death by climbing into her womb and out again through her open mouth.

My children are killing me
Am I sick?
Where's my manhood?
Why don't you bring
Your sex in on a velvet cushion
Trimmed with black lace?
I like black
It's funereal . . . I'm not subtle
My children are killing me
I'm thin . . . They're fat
And full of complaints
They eat me up.
I wake in the night
Crying "Mother!"
You understand me
O woman of clay
You understand me too well
I'm resentful
I grow more distant
I freeze into my hurt ... I smell
The smell of incest
And winter's sickness
God's waking flood
Like a child wets my bed.
I'm possessed . . . The sea
Of your sex flows over us
I want it for myself
You send me forth
With shirt and sandwiches
I bring the sun home
Am I not a man?
I bring the sun home
Wrapped in sandwich paper
I unwrap it for you
It is dead ... I sink
Into this nightly weariness.
What will become of us?
Even my brothers
Are clerks in a Tourist Office
Where is my net
That I caught the sun in
And fished up islands?
"No Islands left" you say
What of ourselves?
Where is my jawbone club?
A fiy-swat for the kitchen-shelf!
Ah, how my head aches
To have your thighs comfort me ...
Ah, how my mind cracks
Between your crossed legs!

—Peter Bland

(From: The London Magazine)