Poor Betty

 

She built a doorway of hard-done-by and walked straight into it,

then said she'd been beaten by the future.

She placed a putty god in a mushroom soup sky

like a bumper sticker on a car made of wind.

Go, Betty, Our Lady of the Tinkertoy Triptych.

It's sad magic to watch a woman become an infant,

plastic ring on a tiny fat hand, teething on the little vile grenades

she treats like dollies, dumb scapegoats to blame for her dead dandelion smile.

______

for The Sunday Muse #212.

Apple Heart

A wounded deer leaps the highest.

Emily Dickinson

 

I'll never tell you what I really wanted.

I'd rather chamber that thought and give it head, and if there are

hookers in Heaven, why then I'll have a job.

 

Keep mystifying doctors, dear,

with your apple heart--

red on the outside,

bloodless on the inside,

 

a sucker bet I lost but lived to tell.

_____

 

a 55 for Kerry at Real Toads.