Dear Gretel:
You took our bread crumbs
and left me in the forest.
Finally I understand why
you had to shit on me,
manure is necessary for growth.
You had to shove another child out of your nest,
get on with your new life of becoming a teacher
filling the off time in your search for the sacred text
by teaching me a lesson.
Now you won’t fuck me any more
and you don’t give a damn about me,
Helen’s face didn’t launch a thousand ships,
hell they were just trying to get away from her.
They’d learned their lesson,
those weren’t sour grapes, they were poison.
It really works doesn’t it,
this wisdom and growth thing.
Best Hansel.
"Good taste is the death of art." Truman Capote
Check in at The Cirrhosis Motel with your host, freelance literary loiterer and epicure, Dennis McBride
photo by John Hogl
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment