I was walking without sponsorship
To show my lump in a flower show
My lump that I have grown
It is not tender
I hope for veneration
My soles are raw with company
My throat is blocked with memories
My tender hair needs dressing
Swing it like you mean it
As you cast aside my coat
Shiny like begrudged ointment
Smeared like weary lipstick
My knickers are in the doldrums
I showed them how to smile
They drooped like unsure turnips
The judges drank my bile
I felt my lump departing
Until the crowded room grew stark
Naked thoughts bleeding dwarves
Reaching for a parasol of glee
My eyes shined searing petals
Melting the loud laugh’s seeds
And the crowd watched helplessly as
An idle pumpkin rolling smartly
© Copyright Fletcher Kovich 2010