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Between Birth and Decay

My aunt had cancer.
Actually, she still does.
It’s just rotting with her bones in an underground cavern.

Between birth and decay,
it’s the suffering that counts.
Malinger away.

Two other aunts have cancer now.
Don’t they deserve it, never coming to visit
never seeing the suffering until the end.

More endings coming forthwith.

 Miami

My ex-boyfriend had gone to Miami for four days in April.
I know because I drove him from the airport.

He went to a strip club.
He met and took pictures of girls he met there.
One night on the town, three pictures of these girls.
I know because one morning after he’d gone to work, I looked through the pictures on his camera.

Six months with me, not a one picture did he take.
I know because I was there.
I know because he’s so predictable.

I know because I drove him to the airport.

Bones

My dog had a bone
but no meat on it
not even much of a scent
where there should have been flavor and bite

My friend nodded
saying it’s a shame
puppies having puppies
but she didn’t know better

She just wanted a chance at a real bone
but she has the real thing now and I give her bacon-flavored bones everyday

See poeticgrin.com for the rules of this exercise.

Note: “Miami” and “Bones”  appear to have 11 lines; however, there is one line in each that is  too long for wordpress’s sensibilities.

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Bunny and I met recently through Bryan and we’ve fallen in love. He’s also our Asian love child, which has a little bit of an Oedipus-esque twist minus the shame and eyegauging, and I am happy to share the fruits of our love with all of my dear readers.

I. From dearest Bunny Belletryst.

Careful, my medicated lady, for if
you prescribe, know this, a narcotic, is what
you’ll imbibe.
A bunny leaps,
reads the label, but what it should say,
is a bunny takes you, takes you,
may lead you astray.

Should my jolly roger affect you lightly, pop a few like jolly ranchers…
Should my taste suit you, a Pavlov-drooling, babbling, witty banter…
take more. take more. take more.

What’s your dosage, my lady?
Can you take the bunny-pill pledge, Lady?
If you think the shoddy design on the old bottle is faded,
just read the poem,
the inscription, get jaded.

A bunny leaps and leaps and leaps.
And so will you, come, creep
to my bottle, hold out your hand.
Look before you leap,
or you may never understand.

II.
From MedicatedLady to Bunny.

An indelible duo
of heart and head
Your Honey to my Bunny.

Twenty-four hours is too long to decide to love.
Let’s make it snappy
and I’ll give you double snaps
and a freckled smile
not much to give
but what I have.

It’s not that I think I’m good
it’s that I know you are
and I’m happy
to follow you
wherever your bunny trails may lead.

See Bunny’s blog at http://brbelletryst.wordpress.com/.

SOB with me

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