Violence is Never Sexy

This is a pantoum I wrote about 2 years ago under the inspiration of Aristophanes' Lysistrata and having then recently read about Columbian women's Crossed Legs Movement (sex strike).  This applies the historical conflation of sex and violence to the nuclear age.  Since writing the poem, I've learned that the form of a pantoum does not demand repetition and replacement as strict as I have written; so am interested in revisiting and revising this poem, but here it is in its original state.  

Violence is Never Sexy

Violence is never sexy.

Missiles fire erotically erect

through tight canals

leaving shards of shrapnel.

Missiles fire erotically erect

wrecking flesh and blood

leaving shards of shrapnel

scattered far from the silo.

Wrecking fresh and blood

our trigger-happy husbands 

scattered far from the silo

birth impotent warriors.

Our trigger-happy husbands

spew radioactive ejaculate to 

birth impotent warriors --

failure to launch

Spew radioactive ejaculate to

carpet bomb the enemy;

failure to launch:

swift blow to ones virility.

Carpet bomb the enemy,

and we won't move our hips.

Swift blow to ones virility

when we block the target.

And we won't move our hips

simulating play with thunder rods;

when we block the target 

our husbands will writhe.

Simulating play with thunder rods

they'll masturbate for peace

when we block the target

our husbands will see.

They'll masturbate for peace

until the weapons are gone, then

our husbands will see

violence is never sexy.