The Human Cannon
Human cannon
They shot him out of a cannon and lost his legs
He flew low over a forest that took his arms
And torso, his head landed in a hexes’ glade
From trees dripped gore like strawberry jam
They flew up with their brooms collected what
Was left of him and made a stew, and he
Thought what a blessing they didn’t get his legs.
Children out, picking blueberry put his head
In a plastic bag, which the gave to the doctor
Who put him un a glass jar? And when
The last patient was gone had a few drinks
Asked question the head could not answer.
Eventually he- still the head-was packaged and
Sent to a museum.
A museum is a spooky place at night stuffed
With dead animals and there is no lion’s roar.
When the interest in his had abated
They put him on a top shelf where the head
Gathers dust while wondering why he is not
Thirsty or hungry.
Copyright © Jan Oskar Hansen | Year Posted 2019
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