The Spot Where the Crack Was

24 Jan

One dim December afternoon
all tuckered, sore, and spent,
returned to my warm sleeping room
and begged my mind to quit its gloom
to smoke and bath, I went

unwrapped my little green cigar
and lie inside the tub
the bath ran hot, with the door ajar
saw my stray hairs, near and far,
yet, cleaner than the Club

a trance-like state came over me,
the water boiled me red–
the pungent smoke curled wild and free,
my mind found its serenity,
and sweat poured off my head

then a sight so strange appeared
a hairy thing crawled in the door
this event must sound absurd
slinkily entered, blood to curd
it slid across the floor

I jumped, then bumped my woozy head
in startled, shocked surprise,
I stared upon the thing in dread
wished it smashed, entirely dead
thus, vanished from my eyes

but fixing me, with a cunning gaze
it spoke in squeaky tones
‘Dear Sir, why does your mind amaze,
to glare at me through this thick haze,
as if I were unknown?’

‘is it because I own these feet
about ten-thousand plus?
or, that you fear what I excrete,
may enter into what you eat
that fills you with disgust?’

Never have I spoken back
to a ‘thing’ so arrogant,
but crunch and flush, my routine act–
instead, I came to interact
with this nightmarish ant

‘You’d better hide under the rug
in places quite concealed,
for if I come out of this tub
I’ll mash you like a common bug
which seems to suit your kind.’

replying with a cautious voice
the wormy thing said, ‘Wait!’
think before you make your choice
for will not cause you to rejoice
to show your inner state.’

You seem to be all filled with hate
unaware of your own vileness,
since you are human, you think you’re great
you came into this world late–
so you’re really not “Your Highness”‘

at this, I side looked to the john
at the brush behind the tank,
and as this thing went on and on
I planned how I could waste this spawn
for thought it far too frank

Suspecting that I meant it harm
but continued its diatribe,
and mocked me sore without alarm,
and I admit, I felt its charm,
my shame I couldn’t hide

I interjected, calm and cool
to get a word in edgewise
‘You think that I’m a stupid fool,
and that I’ve never been to school?
you’re only here to chastise!’

It stopped right then and said no more
because I whacked it with the brush,
its body-parts lie on the floor
its slights no longer could ignore,
so I did it in a rush

it left a spot stained in the tile
reminds me day and night
that even if a thing is vile,
and my esteem, it does defile–
don’t quash it when it’s right!


Limericist, 2007

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Posted by on January 24, 2021 in Poetry


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