All but love curls up into a ball
And bounces around you.
Red and light like a slightly heavy balloon
That bursts with deliberateness.
My fingers are restless:
Today, I drew a sad boy
In shades of black and dots of white-
For contrast.
All in the name of being your missus.
Missus my surname hyphen your surname.
Hyphens become demeaning,
Like a prolonged negative sign.
It is the eve of Christmas
And a turkey is roasting
In my imaginary womb,
Stuffing stuffing the turkey stuffing me.
And you, the proud father,
Wait across my virtual vagina
With anticipation
And of course, a carving knife.
I wheeze-wheeze-wheeeeze
As you cheer me on
Simultaneously salivating
And feeling light in the head.
One great push
And my foot skims hell.
I am ripped apart
And bring forth your feast.
The turkey is burnt
With dots of white- for contrast.
Today, you eat a sad boy.
His fingers are bitter.
The red ball bounces around you
And explodes with deliberateness.
Like a slightly heavy balloon,
Love curls up into a ball.
