A Handmade Prison

Oh how I’d love to

Wrap my arms around you

Not in a loving way

But in a way that would leave you breathless

Like a sardine out of its can

Would you like that?

Would you like to be salmon served in Japan?

Would that make you a man or is that not your plan?

Although, months ago

Things made no sense

I was slow with nowhere to go

You came to my funeral and sat in front row

Now I’m tense for you smiled

At the expense of my bones

And the pain that ran through them

Now they’re dry, bone dry

Cold as stones

I’m kneeling, all alone and I try

To forgive the sweet salmon you are

I look up to the sky

And I know that I’d love to

Leave you on a patch of cement

Ladies and gents, here is a man with no plan

A fish out of water, dear old Dan

I’d charge a fee of two cents

To see you cry

And a five-dollar bill

Just to see you try.

Comments

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Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

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