Insect Freedom

Posted: November 18, 2015 in Poetry

When Joe Cloyd
Woke up
One morning

He found
Himself
Transformed

Into a
Cockroach

He didn’t panic
He didn’t despair

He looked
To his right
To his wife
Who was
Sleeping
And slowly
Scuttled
Out of bed

He then went
In his
Daughter’s room
To look in
On her
But the crib
Was too high

But he could
Smell her
And she was
Doing fine

So he headed
For the
Front door
And was never
Seen again

When it hit
The papers
He was
Talked about
By old women
Who never
Even knew
Him

The old women
Despised him
For turning
Into a
Cockroach
Because they had
Nothing better
To talk
About

That
Joe Cloyd is
Slime, I
Don’t care what
Anyone says,
Declared one of
The old women
At the bingo hall

Yah, turning into
A cockroach is
No excuse, another
Interjected,
My sweet Bill
Turned into a
Cockroach years
Ago and we’ve
Been happy ever
Since

But their
Cockroach husbands
Who were at home
Understood

* Originally posted on Clutching at Straws February 17, 2010

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s