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2009 May 30
by Anne Heraghty

436243_dead_fish_on_dry_lake_bedThank God
he sees her
for what she really is-
lazy, uninspired
wanting to be carried gingerly.

Watch your step.

Pale, lackluster
she is merely a thinker
drained of unrealized potential
coddled, old-fashioned-
a smile on her cute, dimpled face.

She would never take
care of herself.

Spoiled rotten-
rotting still
still rotting.

2 Responses leave one →
  1. Joseph Bastow permalink*
    May 30, 2009

    I so love the finish of this piece. It makes me laugh hysterically – then I check myself in the mirror and wonder what it would be like to have dimples. This is a fab poem!

  2. May 31, 2009

    I agree. We fear the rot, but here it is, in all its glory. Nice to be able to touch it, here, and not burn your hand too much.

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