Modena II

There is a condom that
is not a condom – it sets
sail at the slightest gale -
over my city's phallus,
drilling God's heavens,
soaking water and erect.
When did my Second Mother
get one, tho? I have been far from
her womb (that one is true)
much too long, and without
my funny motions it's all
twistles and tangles to her.

Feminism, unconsciously, has
done its work upon the
chauvinist forms of my city – and
it was a man, no less – except
if you walked by the pavements
and arches, you'd know
my city never began to be
a man in the first place.