Like a super
sized
daisy
ready for deflowering
she reclines
on a long black
leatherette-padded
bench
at the Tate Museum.
I wonder
if she asked
permission
and whether
the museum
had her write
a no harm
agreement
were she to collapse
the metal structure
and hurt herself.
I have nothing
against
massive women
but my curiosity
was never satisfied.
How big
are they really
down there
and whether my pipi
would feel
like Jonas
inside
a whale
and whether the gates
of Heaven
were large enough
to accommodate her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem