Bad Batch of Cotton Candy
They swept me in a dustpan, not realizing it was me.
That I was sort of missing was noted quickly, by all three,
My mother, who was psychic picked carefully all through the lint,
But I had been so minus-sized, I was covered in debris.
Daddy sensed that I was in there, my body, black and blue.
Because as you have now guessed, he was a little psychic too.
They poured the lint in a plastic bag, with a pin-hole so I could breathe.
If it had not been for my grandma, I would have never been retrieved.
But she woke up in the middle of the night, and began to eat the lint bag,
Thinking it was cotton candy, which frankly always makes me gag,
Listening to Grandma Jo’s powerful dentures chomped me awake,
Gave me the incentive to disentangle myself and make my giant break.
Grandma smiled as she watched me, drag myself out of that white plastic bag.
I too dislike cotton candy, she told me and this batch, truly makes me gag!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
