slush time pun (05/06/2015)
call him: an eclectic,
spurned and burned
crippled by antiseptic
branded by the sympathetic,
closed the coffin lid
when you called a paramedic.
Listed in the obituaries
filed under ritalin,
our son, the grand
the inconvenient truth
teeth capped with sin
melting bi-polar
post-panic postpartum depression
a spiritual recession outrun
by questioning whether or not we should
cause the human trials insist we could.
22's not suffered enough
23's too far gone
24's just right, not too hot, not too cold
25's the age we're getting too old
to be splitting hairs and gametes
to have expectations by the end
of each leg of gestation, our harvest amputee
aborting third trimester once again.
we'll call it science 'til it's no longer recognizable
then we'll call it an accident, an incident
and he'll call it sweet gauze revenge
if the last withdrawals of the pills don't take him.
