Your body is made of lily and sex
Piles of strong-smelling, night-illuminating lilies
Upon them your pageboy has spread the ointment of nard
For the lower half of your body you wear a bullfighter's tight costume
The elegant joints of your big fingers press on the brocaded arabesques
Beneath the costume, between the two overpowering thighs
Wrapped in highly fragrant golden clouds
Sleeps a beautiful lion cub, I think
The gentle beast is made of particularly splendid lilies
The suspenders press into your dark chest
The night sky framed by the lion's silky hair
Hooked to the chain of stars a medal shines like the moon
One arm, gathering the flow of muscles, like a river
Leisurely hangs towards the center of the earth
The hand grips a whip
The leather lash of the whip snake-coils on the ground
You will suddenly jerk it up and imprint a swift welt on the air
From the wound brilliant blood will spurt
I shall put your standing figure
On the horse's fluffed buttocks, in the shining sky at dawn
On your shoulders
I shall put a wrestler's head as thoughtful as a forest
(I clipped it from the pictures in a sports magazine)

- The God Statue I Love
by Mutsuo Takahashi
from Poems Of A Penisist (1975)