What she doesn’t know
is there’s only
a curvy carroty
snake-like hook
of an ‘s’
between mother
and smother
where a good spit clean
always lasts too long
like braids too tight
in starched underwear
while overheard praise
becomes a mocking taunt
and who ever invented
the ‘kid-on-a-leash’
should be forced
to smile at her
and eat it.
Perhaps only my skin
knows the day
I turned old
as it sagged
with the sadness
of where it’s been
so readjust my legs
to a lifelike position
hold them in place
and my sagging gut
with further supports
let my abdomen rest
where the pins
now cross
but to be of scientific value
each specimen
must be accompanied
by information
include the location
day, month, year of its capture
the name or initials
of the proud collector
and another cemetery
is properly categorized
Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species
God pins me to the ground
labeled in stone
shown off for a prize
he perhaps
won’t win