Monday, July 9, 2018

When Romantic Conventions Go Bad - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com


When Romantic Conventions Go Bad

O Dear Heart…or Pancreas…or some vital organ…

When I gaze into your ear canals
And cuddle you in my comforting feet
Oh, yeah, I wanna hold your earlobe
You make my sella turcica skip a beat

Your nostrils are so very soft to the touch
Your toenails are like silver-pale moonlight
Your elbows smell like roses in the spring
Your hair follicles are so sunrise bright

And when I meditate upon your liver
Cupid shoots every arrow from his quiver!

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