plastic baby corn

plastic baby corn

A Poem by SkinlessFrank

parasitic

poached goats

are not for

petting zoos

but that has never

stopped them

before

and of course

there’s cream

in a little hollow

place tucked 

so very deep 

inside them

(almost like custard I’d wager)


they know

all about

the lobster

and how she

prefers

to lay her

eggs in a

tight cluster

all grape-like

on the

underside of the

algal frond

 

where I dream

that we too

might someday

find cool shelter

from the plastic bits

that rain down from

the tortured sky

the 3-D printers

that spit

out pink toes

and little 

baby corn

holders

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© 2013 SkinlessFrank


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Reviews

I do believe an evening in your company would be one I would not forget. I now know what I want for Christmas...damn baby corn holders..my life has been missing something and there you have filled it!! Your writing is infectious..in the nicest way possible.

Posted 10 Years Ago


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J
i laughed throughout this whole thing marveling at the incongruous connections you draw for us [as my mind scrambles to imagine such a thing as cream-filled poached goats]. even better -- those dang things know the secrets of lobster eggs, and how to find them! but the best part -- the most surprising and hilarious part is the last ....... little baby corn holders! i see giant human beings sitting on the porch at a miniature table, on tiny chairs holding [between thumb and forefinger] the teeniest plastic corn cob -- with pinkies standing straight up, waving in the air. ohmygoodness, thanks for the laugh!

Posted 10 Years Ago


SkinlessFrank

10 Years Ago

glad you found the humour in this ... a great weapon it is against the onslaught of the everyday eve.. read more
J

10 Years Ago

i could never find the sense in pink toes or 3D printers either -- those being the least of my endl.. read more

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1060 Views
12 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on November 21, 2013
Last Updated on November 21, 2013

Author

SkinlessFrank
SkinlessFrank

Glen Sutton, Quebec, Canada



Writing
death death

A Poem by SkinlessFrank



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