Postpartum Postmortem (Graduation Day)

by September 30, 2010 0 comments

My name is Prayer Bead.
I have taken the gold baton
from my foster mother’s navel
once more intending to snap the champion’s tape
with my belly button.

I forgive you.
Kiss my class ring.
I have a gift for your cholesterol
(the 401K decathlon victor
offers a bikini frontal lobotomy
for your shadow):

Make addiction scrub the table after supper,
wash the car windows at the gas station
and bathe the dogs.
You have holidays to accrue
and doctors to usurp
through casual chess games.
In every can of body cream
A dozen Nefertiti’s wait to go to work.

Looks mean nothing
but you must look better than all
or lose your eyes and wrists.
In every tube of spermicide
a night of drinking will occur,
not so much the inverse.
Take heed if you value your life
and fear breast milk.

A forest is a city waiting to erect:
Learn this before you tan your loin cloth.

Water fondles all it touches.
Be like water in a business suit
or lacrosse shorts.

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