Exhibition

Buy parts for sale;

Arms and livers and bones and hair.

Buy them as your own,

They’re yours to pretend to tell the tale.

Take your auction seat;

Shout and flaunt and haggle and bid.

You can be the proud owner,

Of a life with a heartbeat.

Hand you new trophy on the walls,

Or the shelf, the mantle, or the bed.

It’s yours; do as you wish,

With your newly minted castrated balls.

A fabulous dinner piece,

Over a meal, supper, breakfast overcooked.

A delectable dish of trauma,

An under appreciated feast.

Artists go to the matron,

She dotes on your, your cuts, your stitches.

And she says with a knowing smile,

“Another visit from your patron”.