David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

Poem in Praise of My Love's Second Toe


Oh sprightly bean
Disparaged Queen
Companion of
Four toes unseen
Your height
Makes you predominant,
Locale defines
Imprisonment;

What grace,
What flair,
Oh beauty’s lair,
A carapace
Beyond compare;
I embarrass you
When I stare;
Forgive this tongue
So ill-prepared
To do justice to
Your pale legume,
The toe of Venus
I presume;

Oh beauty’s toe
For length long scorned
By stubby ones
Their joints
Malformed;
Their nails misshaped
Their skin
Thick-horned;
You and
The public
So misinformed;

I kneel before
Your saintly toe,
I swear it’s bulb
Wears a halo;
Oh string bean toe
Once called obscene;
How you glow,
I faint, I dream;


I see myself
Beside your knuckle
And in my hand
A woven buckle
That I might ride
Your dazzling toe
And bask within
Its stepping glow;

Oh scorn me not
For this obsession,
Say not I need
One whose profession
Is slated up toward the head,
Oh leave me here,
I kneel and beg

And I will be
Your podiatrist
That I might touch
And softly twist,
That pale legume
Beyond compare
Who’s beauty so
Dispels despair;

Beside your feet
I’ll lay my couch
That I might peer
And humbly crouch;
To hold perfection
Before my eyes
And defend your beauty
From false allies.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 24, 2013
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