Friday, March 4, 2011

The Compositional Model of Women II

Girls laugh O laughs= cabbage patch dolls. Some lice bubbles over in the sun=cauldron.
Playground of charm bracelets.
Now the lice are everywhere—on the swing sets, between the fingers, crawling across nipples.
A charm of the Eifel Tower in pink.
A charm of the Challenger.
Someone’s incisor, a charm.
A drop of menstrual blood, a charm.

Some dumb father brings up Ancient Greece. The mood changes= King Tut King Tut King Tut.
If I say lice crawl across King Tut’s head, they will.
This is my poem. They do as I say.

If I say lice crawl through King Tut’s long gone pupils, they will.
This is my poem. They do as I say.

House mothers flow into the school auditorium. Now, I’m really pissed.

All of them will say something cruel to their dogs or parrots or cats. It’s a closed system.
Everyone loses.

One of them will hit her girl on the head with a hairbrush. Then she stands in the corner
Of her room. Ghost comes up behind the girl and says punished.

This is how we’re groomed.

What do these house mothers do all day anyway but spoon black soil into soup?

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