Sonorous Insult
(after Robert Desnos)
I spit in the eye
of the father of the bride
of the blacksmith who made the axe
with which the lumberjacks
cut down the big old oak
with a hundred lusty strokes
and which they split in half
and from which the bed was carved
(with a swag of fruit and leaves)
in which the fellow was conceived
who became the great-grandfather
of the guy with the massage parlor
where, provocatively clad,
your mother met your dad.
Copyright © Michael Coy | Year Posted 2017
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