MONDAY'S POET
by Robin C. (Portland, Oregon)
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You came to me with your heart on your sleeve
But it turned out to be one of those cheap appliqués
That you got in a machine in the grocery store.
You wanted the skull and crossbones
But the large woman and her large children
Put their money in first.
The skull came bouncing down the chute in its plastic womb
And you secretly claimed it as yours as she grabbed it with hands like shovels
Promising to give it to one of her burgeoning kin.
But it was yours all along, wasn’t it
Hopes dashed
You inserted your last quarter into the sticky rickety slot hoping that maybe
The growling tiger was manly
Or even the horse with its mane of silver thread and golden hooves
Or the hula girl whose skirt wasn’t quite short enough
But no.
You got the red heart, lined in white velvet
The bloated and secretive heart that you thought was only for girls.
Your mother probably sewed it there to your sleeve with great care and prowess
Small stitches with delicate thread, hoping that it would stay through
Your adventures with women, hoping it would be of good use
As you ventured the world on stilts made of newsprint and wax.
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