Couch Potatoes

I want the couch
to sit on the potatoes,
mashing them in a spin of springs
and soft things that bake
hard in the oven of imagination

Blend and fry, chop and
cut away the fat
that sticks to the bone
and kills our anguished hearts
with sedentary thinking

A constipation growing,
a river crammed with snags and offal
collecting
an ungrateful world’s garbage
that we are too lazy to clean

I want the couch
to dust its hands
and slam the paint chipped door
that hangs
a Christmas wreath in June

Roll bow and all
down the the hill collecting
cans of soup
to feed bare foot children
wandering heaving sidewalks at dusk
knowing it will never set enough tables,
but tumbling ’til the last needle falls off

Advertisements

About the post

Poetry

One Comment

Add yours →

  1. Your picture is worth a thousand words.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: