Portrait of a Theory: A Poem

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Eenie, meenie, minie, moe,
Catch a suspect by the toe,
And the evidence will fit
If you care to alter it.

To a mind with but one track,
“Walter” sounds a lot like “Jack”;
And a fistula suggests
Loathing for all things with breasts.

Art, of course, can help to find
Evidence of a sick mind;
Any canvas, framed and fitted,
Could be art—or crimes committed.

“Fools,” said Ripper, and “ha ha”—
So said Sickert, and his pa!
Damning proof as e’er was heard—
“Fools” is such an unused word.

Eenie, meenie, minie, moe,
Even if the facts don’t go,
Simply get on with the show…
Eenie, meenie, minie, moe.

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