NaPoWriMo #22 - just yukky

Ugly Things That Might, If Smoothed, Ironed, or Flattened, Fit Well In a Frame

Your first failing grade.

Your first failed romance,
complete with sticky tears,
sticky notes,
sticky thighs.

Your first image, burned
into adolescent memory
of an enormous tom cat
conquering a slight kitten.

The shine of the wax
make-up on your grandfather’s
funeral face.

Labored breath.
Anyone’s.

A barking dog alone
outside in the middle of the neighborhood
in the middle of the night.
His two short barks,
his one shrill whine.
The slamming door.

The mother who walks so fast,
hand-to-hand with her children,
their feet seem to fly
beside her varicose legs.

The mother who snarls.

The mother who draws
the water too hot.

The iron after-taste on your tongue
because you drank the scalding water.
Because you did not want to be burned.

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I really likd the title of this poem. I like the concept. I'm not crazy about the content. Here is a fine example of writing even whe you don't feel like it, when you think you have nothing in you, when your muse all but says, screw you.

Who knows? Maybe I'll come back to this one day and do something good with it.

To add to my foul mood, I got a rejection from Big Ugly Review today. Bah. Humbug. Hey! That's ironic! I had the idea for this poem, the title, at least, in my mind but decided to check my e-mail before I wrote (naughty, naughty...such a time waster!). So my ugly poem was not inspired by my rejection from the ugly review, but it is another ugly thing to add to my list.

So tired. So cranky. Must spare readers...