A JOKE THAT'S ALLOWED Poem by Gerrit Kouwenaar

One may not shut one's eyes
to what's suffered every letter-second
between cement and rags.
And also: to whatever between ribs
and breast wall
occurred,
is occurring,
keeps occurring -
the smirky works
of the sharp-spectacled harpy.

But after the gearwheels of thought
to feel your feet
on the pavement,
let loose the reins
behind the curtains.
Abort the mark of Cain,
grind the marble hands down
to nice slabs of flesh,
doomed to fondly
washing up in the frothing
froth at the back of the mind.