Titticot Folly for Peter Watkins
Danny L. Rendleman
My eyes could very well join
The hard lumps of gum and cellophane,
Roll down the aisle, into the screen,
Prod fleshy loins,
Buttocks jiggling like dough.
Old balding man, close your eyes.
Sleep, don’t wet the bed, don’t die:
Ah, your convict face slit open
Like a book page, eyelids wedged with cotton.
I could very well ride the rubber hose.
Through your nostril,
Do my part, give you food.
If I could, I would undiaper your groin,
Order up an erection from your pale
Genitals, wasted like damp newspapers,
Muffle your whine that clamors up
A white brick wall.
If I could, I would fill your cell
With your dead wife’s heavy arms,
Plant a big-footed beagle pup
Under your chair,
Do my part, give you air.
From the Red Cedar Review, volume 7, number 3/4 (1971). For more information on this author at the time of this publication, and other online issues of this publication go to: https://d.lib.msu.edu/rcr