MiPo Poetry Board Best of 2002

Moses' Coat Hanger

Was it kismet
(or providence
or some other term I never learned)
that led us to the Jiffy Lube
that led us to the back room
that led you to sit in stirrups staring.
Womb held wide by bootstraps,
in wishbone formation.

“Mama, it hasn’t been 3,000 miles,
you don’t need an oil change,
don’t part your Red Sea for this man.”

“Hey Moses, I’m not a sweater,
don’t needle that coat hanger
into moistened spark chambers.”

He sits there jutting his staff into Mama wanting manna,
wanting an Exodus to get me gone.

“Mama, don’t let him stab me,
I haven’t had a chance to suckle the plenty
from the land of milk and honey."

Please don’t give me up Mama,
you can call me Molly if I’m a girl,
I might kill cancer or cure AIDS
(or be better than Dali and Warhol combined)
If you’ll just close the canal,
stop letting Moses preach with iron
prodding in places where important parts
might possibly be.
You’ll see Mama,
It’ll be a ‘Voila!’
‘Eureka!’
I’ll be
your panacea

Damn it whore! That hurt.

"Why do I get baited
and cast unto the Nile Reeds dumpster
just cause you had too much Manashevits with Monty
at an imposter Studio 54?"

Harder, yes, harder Moses, slit me to the Promised Land.
Slit me to the Gates.
Stab, cut, slice, poke,
prod my cells till I’m a wet spot on Mama’s new skirt.
Till I’m something for the janitor to slip on when he takes out the trash.
Yeah, faster, yes, faster, keep the pangs coming.
I’ll be waiting for Mama when she bleeds out in the Camry.

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