The Woman with the Saggy Breasts
That woman with the saggy breasts is me.
But how on earth did that come to be?
Mom sloped low with her burdened sigh,
Now so do I, so do I.
Originally published Oct. 12, 2018
Milk
in the story of my life
i would be a girl
a pill-saddened
milk-laden
mouth-breathing girl
in the story of my life
i'd want to be a lamb
a milk-giving soft-breathing
daisy-laden lamb
in the story of my life
i am a blob
a pill-breathing
life-sleeping
half-pretty slob.
 |
| Originally published April 16, 2013 |
Anxious Poem
Loudly I waited afraid of the kill,
No doctor saved me and no doctor will.
The cross eyes and fat thighs and wet sighs and red,
Everything's thoroughly hollowly dead.
All the cracked children's books and
the nights in my head,
All are thoroughly, sleeplessly, recklessly dead.
The Ovaltine covered with dust in a shed,
It's all coated and bloated and breathlessly dead.
No doctor saved me and no doctor will.
The cross eyes and fat thighs and wet sighs and red,
Everything's thoroughly hollowly dead.
All the cracked children's books and
the nights in my head,
All are thoroughly, sleeplessly, recklessly dead.
The Ovaltine covered with dust in a shed,
It's all coated and bloated and breathlessly dead.
Comments
Post a Comment