Investigation
(First two lines borrowed from David Berman)
A shoelace and a penis, lying in a field,
on a cold blue February morning.
Is it days or weeks it will take for a man
in a wind wet plastic anorak
to come stumbling over sods
and spectacle peer over at the short sickly stump.
Will he brush aside a pile of rabbit droppings and imagine
one nose nudging it over and over.
Will he wrap it in tissue and later in the kitchen
with his wife, peel back the covering
to find it white stuck with Copydex error corrections.
Will the police bag it, whoopee pushing the air out
and snap clip it shut in a filing cabinet.
