Thou are not , mine ass --
without buttress -- worthy
of praises high ; miracle
sublime ! What trick is
this ? Molded between
those fibers , black - jean ,
glory transpires ; ass trod
out , and shock the world :
juicilicious , taut , marble !
Who bequeathed our race
those holy , gilded cheeks ?
Immaculate folly , to wonder :
for who but Michelangelo
could wrought justice such ?
[Published in The Rainbow Cantos: Two Attempts At Queering The Canon]
