Thursday, July 19, 2012

Poem: Sycorax

by Jack Brummet





I woke up on the wrong side of the bed
In the wrong scene of a bad dream.
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,
Only one of us will leave this room.
    ---o0o---

1 comment:

james said...

be like the wolf -
lose the arm;
live to bite
another day.