class poetry (edited)

He Grew

He grew:

A skeletal anchor rooted heavy

Amidst molten spew erupting out

Cavernous mouths from derelict minds.

Up:

Against parades on courses to

Lives full of squalor

They sheltered in shadow.

When singed by the sun, he looked longingly below.

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Apparently

Slugs get out of the garden

Sew suits in Italian

Grow taller with thread count

Monday morning’s hello was a slug on my pillow.

Maybe was there over night

Drawling slug whispers.

I should have been frightened

A terrific cook

Oozing slug juice

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Only God, My Dear

She sheds hair on everything.

It’s the condiment of choice.

A great supply provided by

Gold drunk weavers.

It is in her shirt and prepared food,

You’ll never guess what stuffed my coat,

Adorned pillows, King duvets, and our child’s little throat.

We thought that it would be messy.

But everything’s so easy now to clean!

Shampoo, lather, rinse, repeat it;

Formulaic and pristine.

Like chapel.