Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Three nonconsecutive generations that can -- No -- Will – spit the timeless fairytale of that princess Who never lost glass slippers -- or Touched poisoned spindles -- or Ate strangers’ apples -- or Dealt with witches – and We are that dry, plain Eucharist-wafer taste on your tongue That paralyzing cramp between your toes That still-alive, still-wiggling earthworm’s six separate, butchered body parts We stole the words from journalists’ larynx, His statistics, his inference, his prowess His bias came hungry and ate the bread crumbs from our hands. The name mother-bird doesn’t carry as much weight these days. Collectively considered and individually squandered, We’re the nonsense jumbled-word search in your local Sunday paper. And you’ll have us whether you like or not with your large coffee and bagel.
0
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 11:52 PM UTC
House of Three Women
Three nonconsecutive generations that can -- No -- Will – spit the timeless fairytale of that princess Who never lost glass slippers -- or Touched poisoned spindles -- or Ate strangers’ apples -- or Dealt with witches – and We are that dry, plain Eucharist-wafer taste on your tongue That paralyzing cramp between your toes That still-alive, still-wiggling earthworm’s six separate, butchered body parts We stole the words from journalists’ larynx, His statistics, his inference, his prowess His bias came hungry and ate the bread crumbs from our hands. The name mother-bird doesn’t carry as much weight these days. Collectively considered and individually squandered, We’re the nonsense jumbled-word search in your local Sunday paper. And you’ll have us whether you like or not with your large coffee and bagel.
kara-rose-trojan
Written by
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 11:52 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem