I wrote a LOT of poetry today.

[apocalypsos]

First up, haikus!

*

Idiot

Yowling Siamese
crying in the kitchen -- stop
it, I just fed you.

*

Heat

Cinnamon candy
A blaze across my tongue, this
compact inferno

*

Adult

A swig of Pepsi,
two handfuls of Frosted Flakes
-- this is a breakfast?

*

And another poem I wrote based on some artwork we viewed in the library.

Half-Life

They told us she was lumpy, gray,
a wad of flesh, a waste of space,
that nothing beat in a rhythmic hum
in the depths of her silent decay.

I carried her home; no choice in the matter.
They left her in to walk out on her own.
"Her heart doesn't beat and you expect her legs to work?" I ask,
but no one volunteers to escort her out.

So we three go home, we unhappy three.
We put away dolls, we throw away formula.
We sit the crib on the curb,
happy, yellow and lying,
and put a sign on it:
"Free to a good home -
for putting babies in".
He crosses out that last part, a sneer slashing his face.
"Now's not the time for jokes," says he.
How nice; wish I could say the same.

Instead I pack the clothes,
donate the diapers to charity,
start a bonfire with that scatter-shot pile
of well-meaning "Congratulations" cards,
and plan ahead for packing her away,
plain packing tape around an expensive white box.