She stood tall and strong and willowy
She matched the grace of Leonardo
The clarity of Picasso
The lyrics of Wordsworth
The intensity of Milton
And the power Merit Ptah
She was admired by many
Stricken by few
Envied by simpletons
Humbled by graciousness.
Then, startled, she awoke
Slowly, dazed, unbelievingly
One fine summer night
After playing with friends.
Her solitary sojourn
Amongst the grass and rushes
Was not pieced together
Until she saw the strewn knickers
The missing bra
The blood soaked legs
The torn vagina,
And the tattered dress…
Fifty yards away.
Surely the statue would stand
For another turn around the Sun
Desecrated by another human man
Who only howled at the moon.