Thursday, May 03, 2007

A Work Poem: The Pope's Penis

As you might notice, I'm collecting work poems, which no one seems to comment on, but I will continue. I'm reading Strike Sparks, a dazzling collection by Sharon Olds of poems from 1980-2002. I can't find any poems specifically about work, so I've turned to theologically-related poems. I read this poem last night to my husband, and it was very well received.

The Pope's Penis

It hangs deep in his robes, a delicate
clapper at the center of a bell.
It moves when he moves, a ghostly fish in a
halo of silver seaweed, the hair
swaying in the dimness and the heat---and at night,
while his eyes sleep, it stands up
in praise of God.

-Sharon Olds