Scuttle hug
meet the rug
hey how you doin’ down there?
I miss
the act of starting over
like I had nothing to lose,
no memories, no reputable ruse;
instead I start over
with all this baggage
cuz I gotta know who i am
after the rules
and stories i used to be–
i miss
paint on my body to last a night,
miss
battleship laughter,
bandana blight,
i’m a warrior under all this
nonsense,
i’m a blouse with no dress
jack-eloping with the wind,
i’m a frontier
of pillaged nations
severing oblations
to a god of our invention.
But don’t you find it funny
when the monster turns on its maker?
i think he’s gonna ask
to our little rug habitat
how we been treatin’ each other,
how we been huggin’ in the desert wind,
how we gonna start over
in the brand new age
when it’s our nation
left for pillage,
i miss
the innocence,
when the walls of a home
were the edges of the universe
and nothing out there
could ever hurt us;
all that’s gone,
we know now
there was always demons inside,
demons in the rug
asking for a hug
of icky stunk sludge
and you better run,
skirt and no shoes,
jackalope ruse
used up
hey god up there,
how you doin’,
do you ever wish
you could forget all this
and just
start again?
***
find my published books at this link
Jordyn Saelor 