W.O.R.M.S.

“Cootie shots can’t mend a mangled heart.

Remember:  Without Reason Men Slaughter.”

There’s nothing more important than the part

of advice a father gives his daughter.

Remember:  Without Reason Men Slaughter.

Inside a chest scribed with this abstract art:

advice of a father to his daughter,

annelid-like, yet clever, once picked apart.

Inside this chest scribed with abstract art,

lived the mind of a tom-boy, tiny tot

who liked annelids; to pick them apart.

She stared incessantly at the green felt letters.

Inside the mind of a tom-boy, tiny tot,

boys were unknown, for the most part.

She stopped staring at those five useless letters,

put youth in the past; a boy-crazy mind started.

Boys are still unknown creatures, for the most part.

Her confiscated heart is placed on a tarnished platter;

the boy she’s crazy about ordered out, a la carte.

She should’ve listened to her father.

Observing a rotting organ on a tarnished platter,

limp and soulless, is a father’s least favorite part.

“You should’ve listened,” said her father,

“Cootie shots can’t mend a mangled heart.”