Poem: Sycorax

Sycorax

I woke up in the wrong scene of the wrong dream
On the wrong side of the bed.
That's not my beautiful wife;
It's not Goldilocks, or Fanny Hill, either.
She has hammertoes on a clubfoot,
Cysts, warts, carbuncles, breath like a hobo's ass,
And a Tatoo on her lower back:
"Property of The Berdoo Angels."
Sycorax fires a stream of Tasers from her eyes.
And I fall to the floor like a clearcut fir.
I can't quite open my eyes.
The chain saw coughs and comes to life.
I realize with sudden clarity
That only one of us will leave this room.
---o0o---