(Or, What God Decided Not to Impart to Moses)
Men, let it be said, must be deprived of their nobs –
their flutes tipped off with skin, their gleaming cobs.
For if they are to walk in a line that is straight,
it is decisive that they cease to masturbate.
You see that taller man with bone in hand?
We’ll yank his off and have it mounted on a stand.
To keep the others tame, it’ll serve as a brand.
It’s his and he can use it as he needs
to shepherd the bleating fools deprived of their seeds.
Eventually, of course, they’ll slaughter the beast.
Upon his very bollocks will they feast.
The rescued women will have to sleep with their sons
so as to foster a race of diminished ones.
They’ll glance back on the event through the pales
and mark it by trimming the posts of newborn males.