January Reverie

I wasn't surprised when I threw

up African beetles in the kitchen sink.

 

Although all dead, they were perfectly

intact--not one leg missing or carapice cracked.

 

What a waste my acrylic mother sneered

as she popped a few crickets in her mouth

 

from the glass candy-dish.  Crisp crunches

overlapped NPR, which drifted from the pale living room.

 

My stomach quivered as I washed the beetles down

the drain and then it numbed when the garbage

 

disposal ground them into metallic

chirps, like cracking tiny skulls with hand bells.

 

Half a cricket fell from my mother's lips, disapeared

within the whirring drain.  Her mouth pinched.  What a waste.

Reviews

[—-]

Now, this is brilliant!

You have delievered a storm, like burroughs touching up bukowski! love the phrasing particularly the following;

-What a waste my acrylic mother sneered

-disposal ground them into metallic
chirps, like cracking tiny skulls with hand bells

Keep it up Sivvy :)

[Hidden Happiness]

ah omg...this is super super unique. i never read anything like this b4. once again you get a 100 out of 100..aahh amazing:):):):):):):):):):)!!!!!

[bob, small b. aka invs]

i just spent a little time reading some of your poetry here and really enjoyed the time. you have a unique perspective. real life with a tinge of surrealism. it's always good to find a different voice. well done.

[PaleWriter]

Kinda gross actually. No offence.