December 27th, 2020
You’re At The Grownup Table Now
In vermillion lipstick, a Dorothy
blue dress, borrowed ruby, ring finger, beaus
to impress, submit to a coy lady’s
request for your red shoes before she goes
another night to Oz, woos a tasteless
Lothario. Leave you with a boy, shrewd
serpent in a kitchen sink. First, you finesse,
send for something red to drink. Latter, you
will batter until still quivering, peel.
Boy who prepares, serves eel on a plate rues
the bell which summoned him, the man of steel
who waits to throw him out; you must stroke his rage.
At the grownup table, you will come of age.