My Own True Love

Within two sandals, lo, my love can stand
Or walk
or jog
or sit upon her hand, 

Ah, hand, which, framed with bone, is wrapped within
Some ligaments
some muscles
and some skin. 

Yon skin hath many pores intruding there
save for where she shaveth
it hath hair. 

Her hair, it is of strands that ofttimes shed
should we say
cascadeth from her head, 

A head nigh situated at the top; 
the front of which
is where
her face doth start and stop: 

A face with eyes to see and mouth to speak
and one large nose to

Predominant that nose, from tip to crest, 
which poiseth
like an eagle
o'er her breast

Her heaving breast, distinctly strap't apart, 
beneath whose folds
there beateth
one true heart

That heart, hale pumping, circulateth juices
between her nose
her feet
and her cabooses, 

Cabooses restful most whene'er she's seated. 
            So now the image
            of my love
            hath been completed. 

To you, dear reader, now should be quite plain
            the reason that I worship
            her brain. 


                        - Richard Hacken