Hex

An old woman slowly loses her lips
As science worships the hexagon
Not too happy about the state of things
"why am I still working"
Her drooping hands say
Clinging to a bag designed to be temporary
There is blood somewhere under her stockings
But she questions how much
Enough to run
Her diesely femur retorts
"And how far under all this supportive undergarmenting"
Her anxious ankles ask
Get there when it gets there
Says a kidney
Here's to hoping her husband is at home watching television
Two people shouldn't have to work that hard
A nearby farm tells you to shut your mouth
You can hear the cricket legs scraping their sawblade tragedy
"four dead in Ohio"
Their Ohio is a nearby tree
With screaming birds at the base
A chorus of wanton screeching
A simple assembly line
Dropping oddly shaped pills into their blister packs
Like candy dots
Run across a razor
Dropping into gullet holes
Turning the grind of throat cacophony
Into a dotted line
A Wheel of Fortune riddle
Missing consonants
It will ease the arthritis
Enough so he can change the channels
And she can run the stove
--
3/18/09