Pogonophilia Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

It's all about that woman
that sings Mambo Italiano.
I recall how enthralled I was
by her physique and her poignant

movie acting, by the way, didn't hurt
especially the motion picture where
she is raped by north African
military hoodlums.

A racist choice at the time that didn't go
unnoticed considering the era.
The persona of the actress and my sense
of pubescent chivalry aroused indignation

that rose from my throbbing throat
culminating in repressed angst.
This is dim in my remembrances
except for since the time I heard

she had wide large nostrils
with hair sticking out.
From then on, every time I saw
her voluptuous hips sway

to which undulations I learned
to dance that dance way back then
I couldn't help visualizing
her hirsute schnoz.