What Is That
No race,
Non-descript,
Inexplicable,
It deserves a Hit,
Let's twist it and
turn it like a rubiks
cube,
It will reveal itself
or become unglued,
The pressure to label
is more prevalent than
ever,
So they scan to be clever,
Zapping the mutts and unexplained
of this world with one pull of their
unilever,
Xraying until their livers quiver,
"What is that?" They say in unison,
Hmmmm.....Perhaps it tastes like
venison?
Copyright © Margeret Bailey | Year Posted 2010
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