Tale of the Stolen Penis

Jennifer Footman
From:   St. Valentines Day. New Brunswick: Broken Jaw Press, 1995.

Some person stole my penis. I don't know
who did the dirty deed, don't give a damn
about crime and punishment
just demand the damned thing back in its place,
a very special place I keep for it.

Some person stole my penis. I know
I had it somewhere, sure I did. It shone
bright and hard as a friendly beacon
set out in a vicious sea to welcome
tired travellers back to hearth, home and sanctuary.

Some person stole my penis. I recall
it quite clearly; I used to fool
with it, as happy as a boy in a sand-pit
building castles for austere virgins
and Little Red Riding Hoods, minus wolves.

Some person stole my penis. It has gone,
quite gone into wind away from me
into frigid air, into the very clouds
where great gods cavort with lesser gods
and wet spots, never, never blemish sheets.

Some person stole my penis. Now,
when I look down to examine the space it took
I see nothing. Nothing there
to wink back at me, show me I still count
in worlds where Cyclops is the one with sight.

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Jennifer Footman's works copyright © to the author.