June 29, 2012

poem 203 of a poem a day for 2012

dinner dive bell

a thousand strands
of monkey pox
in constant mutation
have come to dinner
I don’t think there will 
be enough bread
but as for fish
there will be plenty of fish
and served anyway
you might wish
in a covered dish
or fried with tails on
slathered sauce prawn
but really who am I kidding
the pox have come to eat us for dinner
so we might want
to get back to swimming

the people down the hall
know I am mad
with delusional fantasies
as they hear me scream bad theatre
renditions in vocalizations
that match spot on
some mirrored part
of my fractured mind
a cartoon from childhood voice here
an old radio voice there
always with a touch of macabre
and mayhem thrown in

as water often does
seeks the lowest point
and I am drowning
wanting something
I no longer have limbs for
so I write these poems
to cover another spot
another pox that my soul
has swelled up with
I think I have basted long enough
I might be ready to be served now
as I breathe the blue in like water
I wonder which part of me
will get eaten first


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