Three Poems

Poetry
Stephanie Scarborough


The Nurse On Igor’s Confession
Parody of “Sonnet” by Charles Harpur

He loves me! From his doughnut-eating lips
The strange confession came like methane gas
From some kid’s rear-end in my nursing class.
And still my heart at the remembrance skips
Because sometimes my cheap pacemaker slips
When I’m afraid. While still atrocious Spam
Is eaten baked or fried or from the can
A clear assurance that no doubts eclipse
That if the moldy doughnuts on his plate
Are like old toilets flushed with Bowl-B-Brite
I must still even further contemplate
His statement of such blissful, pure delight
For his straight jacket that’s grown way too tight
Makes me further question his mental state.

 

Doughnut Sonnet No. 40

The floorboards quiver and the bedposts quake,
And neighbors hear my desperate, breathy sighs
As I stare and behold the massive size
Of the glazed, crème-filled treasure I partake
Of without guilt, regret, or shamefulness.
With every sticky bite I lick my lips
And let it ooze between my fingertips,
Leaving me a crusty, sticky mess.
The sun comes up and slams into my eyes
As I unglue my pillow from my head
And rip away the crusty sheet that’s dried
And adhered rather firmly to my thighs.
And after that I solemnly decide
To give up eating doughnut in my bed.

 

Sibella to Poindexter

Please kiss me with those clammy lips of Spam,
And may I run my fingers through the dan-
Druff in your thinning Flock of Seagulls hair?
I’l put The Golden Age of Wireless
On the record player if you want, or
Play that darn accordion or build a
Model of the A & P with Pop-Tarts
And canned Cheez Fizz. Eat a tofu sandwich,
Do the laundry with a bargain brand of
Bleach or watch The Jeffersons or Dragnet or
Play “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” on your
Accordion for hours upon end.
So long as I can have a taste of Spam
And dandruff lodged beneath my fingernails.

pencil

Stephanie can be reached at Sas0301[at]aol.com.

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