Maneuver a bull
on the stage,
lime lights seeing red
read your lines
in a dizzy haze
black out
cue the narrator:
the popsicle obstacle
went on a journey
in this journal,
where Brother Blood meets Mother Mud
is when Jose complains no way he’ll crochet,
sodadoughs are almost palindromic
but yikes
the lemon light
has puckered up by mrain–
is the audience laughing
or is the stage manager’s mic crackling
out a PSA,
saying it’s okay to not be okay
in the swamp of this stage costume?
Now the matador is coming on strong
but the matador’s got her swagger all wrong
ah yes
that’s how this part goes:
unhand me foul wrench
nuts and bolt from this stench
I’ll never dance with the lakes of you
I’d rather go dipping with piranha chips
in the Amazon guac
uh holy mole
there’s a rift across the bull
ah yes
that’s how this part beefcake goes:
the matador screams
and the narrator sinks to his knees
while the audience gives up their applause
to dead silence.
***
check out my published book at this link
Jordyn Saelor 