Blowout
The image could not be more clear:
the blowout from a diaper,
recoiling from my precious child
as though she were a viper.
Olfactory assault enough
to bring you to your knees,
the onesie soiled, arms raised, she cries
for you to help her, please.
Shaking, sweating, retching and forlorn,
gagging in the sink, “Who gave our daughter corn?”
—————
For the “Form I - Imagism - New Poem” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Written on 03/07/2022
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