fine point

dear mom,
in my next life
I want to be a nuclear warhead
all cozy in my silo
like a mom & pop motel with its gift wrapped soap.
I’d miss all the tender social events
but imagine me fashionably late!
(I can see the dread on your face when I peek at you)
instead I’m Penelope pink in the shower
foamy
and with cockroach legs.
my skin is a desert
complete with a bleached arching bone
a sticky tongue
I’m a model
a carbuncle of airplane glue
I’m porcelain and undrinkable;
I’m a mayonnaise jar filled with false teeth
and only my hair is plantlike,
only my toes are worth eating.

Elemental

I always thought I was water, salty blood,
a flitting, nervous little bird, be
cause that’s what my mother named me in the nick
cause I look like her she’d say.
I feel water…