Her legs are crooked,
her arms are obtuse.
Your humor is dark
there is no excuse.
If you are Love,
then why is this so?
Such a beautiful girl,
not in body but in soul.
She has needs
as most of us do.
Yet she was unworthy
but for daily abuse.
The anger wells within me,
a punishment so unpleasant.
The anger pools in her,
frustration turned resentment.
I don’t want to be a father
for my own selfish reasons.
You shouldn’t be a Father,
guilty of spiritual treason.
She was the Girl with Bruised Knees
and the Bruised Heart
with love taken as far as it could
but still a million miles apart
Despite all her Pleading and Pleasing
her Labors bore no Recompense
aside from a Damaged psyche
uninvited Bitterness made manifest
She was the Girl with Bruised Heart
And the Bruised Knees
Battered fruit Ruined
eternally mouthing, Why Me, Why Me
These are not Halcyon days and nights
for those wearing exposed hearts
stitched clumsily to their arms.
They should be afraid
or at least alert;
put up your guard!
I say.
The hospital volunteer in her vermilion stripes and exhibitionist skirt,
offers to help the ailing and hapless but even worse
our body’s defenses are low.
She infects this vulnerable man,
an unprotected soldier sans armor
caught in her barbed wire,
destitute.
Like a dentist, she comes in grinning, porcelain, smiling innocence
brandishing tools and clamps and other things that are good for my health.
And if I’m a good boy, here’s a sweet, except
my molars shatter every time
they bite down on your
hard candy,
doctor.
Another role, another face, she fills the shoes gracefully, a glass slipper
forms around her foot, molten glass never burning the skin.
Instead the clear membrane embraces it, thankful to have been chosen.
Until the day the scuffs and the dullness
become embarrassing
and she kicks it off
shattering it.
At last, a waitress comes around to deliver the check,
and the price is hefty, perhaps too high to pay.
She knocks over a bottle of wine yet
her charm is disarming so
I don’t mind the stain.
It all trickles down
to the bottom.
Stupid Children 