Let Me Swallow Some Rotten Cotton
The Big Ben chimes thrice
The chime letS go of its wings
and swallows a bee-sting--
it sprays its spine with spice.
The printer reboots in haste
The fruits play hide-and-seek
and collide with a geek--
it munches them into paste.
The vacuum sucks some mice
The cooker burns my vermilion
and stir fry a reptilian--
it leaves a slime not too nice.
The platform leaks bits of ice
The mattress sweeps and weeps
and sleeps on a floor too steep--
it engulfs it alive, sliced.
The keyboard taps this one dice
The toilet gurgles more bubbles
and the pain itself chuckles--
it flies me to the paradise.
The chess set gleams bice
The nylons claw like spiders
and squeeze me into drips of cider--
it splices my nerves, enticed.
The cupboard scatters with rice
The mittens hold your gem
and you roll the gritty hem--
it costs your skirt beyond price.
The window pane kisses a firefly
The lens and specs frown
and pout like a sad clown--
it seems hard to purify.
The curtains drown in cries
The hair clips bend their backs
and have their teeth crack--
it no longer denies your demise.
Copyright © Helen Cheng | Year Posted 2015
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