my husband and I used to argue
weeks after a verbal agreement should have been over
we were silly about it
heckling and harassing each other
over things that do not matter
ridiculously egging and goading
my husband told me a story about a soldier
the soldier kept beating his horse after it had died
his commanding officer said “the horse is dead, dismount”.
now when the argument reaches a silly stage
one of us yells “the horse is dead, dismount”
this has worked to end our idiocy for the last fifty years.
Forbidden nectar taste so sweet
She smiles as I play in her garden of eden
Her lips pucker anxiously, but her face remains completely still
Body grabs have escalated dramatically
Slow and steady has transitioned into aggressively rapid
She is the completion of a strenuous journey
To go where many have only dreamed
Selective service of pleasure
Duty calls for the firm and rigid soldier
Playing civilian, she salutes for her commanding officer
Yes Sir!
The commanding officer with forceful strode
Beleaguered by the blizzard, nonstop we rode
In the sweeping expedition within deserts
Heavy masses on our back with an extraordinary load
Once an unyielding fortitude, now walking on with backs bowed
Reasoning with intellects bearing
Casting nuisance in a foreign tongue, sheep’s following the goad
Plead with the omnipotence to forgive their malicious seeds sowed
Looking up to the 7th heaven, screening the supremacy of Karma.
This morning,
I woke,
eyes crescent mooned.
In the kitchen,
I found a platoon,
army crawling between
pepperoni and assorted
veggies, gathering intel
for the commanding officer.
My tweezers clinched
between thorax and abdomen,
strapped him down by the neck.
It took three milliliters
from the syringe to
drown his insides.
His dog tags
read:
Red Aunt
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