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Image for the poem Sweet Mama

Sweet Mama

Mama was now doing the limbo at the carnival show, in "Heaven's Rest", Nursing Home. Heaven's Rest also fronted for a mortuary and automatic carwash. Mama was a dwarf with a goiter and broken veins. Mama lived in dreams of Mona Lisa and tooth fairies. She hung from strings as if dark's marionette. Wrapped in her favorite Chinchilla.

I was her kemosabe and she was my loops. I in my best, Liberace attire straight out of pixie. Wearing my Maidenform and nightshade. Stepping on escargot shells as they slithered in ooze. I had just made summa cum laude at the freak show. Thinking summa began in June. "Hi-ho, the derry-o…" It started to rain. Perhaps an exorcism for communicating with the downspout. I had heard echoes as if the Keebler elves were choiring.

From the verge of insanity. I heard mama rasp and cough, from behind the door. As her phlegm came up from the back of her throat. As if a three-legged Iguana. Needing a cough or her back rubbed.

The eyes in the gable looked down on me. Cold as the Welcome mat. Silent as the powerless doorbell and as dark as the Umber. Giving the place a look of naught. 

Feeling the blues with a touch of insomnia, at mama's wake. As they powdered her knuckles and swelling thrombosis. Beneath her closed eyes of dark's infinity. I whispered an ode to her willy-nilly. Touching her coffin of paper mache and her lips of a golem's Shangri-La. Wrapped in a plain brown bug zapper.  
adagio
Written by adagio
Published
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