Jeffrey McDaniel (1967 / Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
Boss Of The Nethers
The cupped cervix sat
on the coffee table.
We tried not to stare,
like our pupils would get fried by its brightness.
Perhaps my ex-wife left it as a reminder of the time
when human beings had hips, back when we had bodies.
Yes, that was fun-a cupcake of breeze disintegrating
on our cheeks, a banana muffin undressing in our nostrils,
but bodies broke down too,
and things are easier now.
Strange, how we see further without eyeballs. Our eyes tricked us
into thinking a wall was something not be seen through.
Mouths got in the way
of saying what needed saying.
When they were invented
mouths were only supposed to be used in emergencies,
but we couldn't resist,
which made god so mad
he ripped our ear in half,
and still we didn't listen.
Comments about this poem (Boss Of The Nethers by Jeffrey McDaniel )
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