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

desperation

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

EJR ©