|
Satirical Sunday Ruminations
by Ken HarnischSevered at the toes
My foot teeters at the precipice of
Something it knew as balance
And now just calls survival
For want of another word.
I wiggle them in the air,
And still feel
The pain in nerves
Extricated by the scalpel
Then realize why I believe in ghosts
Will I stand in the afterlife?
Or be as dependent upon pink-aproned
Matrons in heaven, who got there,
You have to think, from being
Saints to the unsaintly back on earth
No, those heavenly bodies
Are resting in hammocks
At God’s command. The people
Who serve me now, waiting hand and foot,
To coin an irony, were once insurance agents
07/30/2008 Author's Note: Fret not,fellow poets.Este es satire! As the old song says, "I've got me ten big toes to wiggle in the sand.."
Posted on 07/30/2008
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 07/31/08 at 01:45 AM Wonderful. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 08/03/08 at 08:42 PM Glad for the author's note! Had me a little concerned! Great satire! (From my understanding of the Bible those who are in Heaven are whole and not likely in hammocks but gratefully DOING the will God. :0)) |
| 
