Statue of Limitations

Fatuous assurances that you’re okay
won’t make it go away,
now that your life attracts a splay
of epithets all braying an array

of every kind of rudeness

including lewdness.
.
Untold humiliations

have continued to amass

since that damned ass
who’d carved you up said that you
were the very incarnation of a Statue 

of Limitations –
.
at any rate, of his.
Oh to know the nature of the biz

employed by that divinity sans arms

with which she even now disarms

her Louvre viewers with her charms –

that dame from Milo, Venus!
.
If you hadn’t lacked a penis,

you suppose, or if you’d had a nose,
or if there were no foot with toes
protruding from your head 

it might a tiny bit reduce your dread

of knowing nothing better lay ahead.

.
.
.