Thread: Pick Up Day

The phone hidden behind a lamp
never utters a peep.
Dust motes set up house
on the handset
unafraid tips dipped in chocolate
would ever invade their landscape.
Such savvy little fellows.

Empty Whitman's boxes
litter the floor,
colonized by distant dusty cousins,
(she had to forgo Godiva
when her office chair screamed
then collapsed and boss man
gave her the axe).
Come sunup
roaches pause their rave
to nap in paper candy cups.
No need to scurry and hide
in the dark of the double-wide,
all know she won't be stirring.

TV's been blaring
near two weeks
hour after hour
of the best bargains
(hurry! only ten remain!).
Her scent has overpowered
the usual eau du filth
snaking its way through
the laceration left by a curve
thrown last spring.
Putrid perfume caresses
each jagged shard.

Nosy neighbors' noses
catch a whiff on a breeze,
time to call the cops, if you please,
for that woman has gone too far.
Knock on the door gets no reply,
peek through the window
reveals why:
her four hundred plus
bloated and black
as feasting flies revel in attack
and the QVC hostess
hawks fancy spice racks.

The phone hidden behind a lamp
never utters a peep
(no one cared 'til she dared
poison their air)
and the coroner wades
through garbage in heaps.
Age of maggots will define
the timeline of her decline,
and the tox screen will surely show
arsenic as her source of woe -
foul play or foreplay -
they'll never know.

Mrs. Proboscis from next door
watches from the window
pleased to her core;
she's finally rid of that trash.
I've done my job
as head of park watch,
she thinks as she cracks
a bottle of aged scotch,
then returns her hand
to the pocket of her smock
to lovingly cup the vial
that gave her cause to dial
the sheriff
on this fine summer morn.

Very nice O-o
At first I imagined a carnie type setting of the fat womans house, then it came to just gluttony and sloth surrounding her, a fat wild woman of cravings for sweets deathly so, is what I imagined. Before I got to the point of poison, I figured she just ate herself to death, which would seem a fitting end for such as her. But I didn't care for hte poisoning part at first, until finishing it, which gave a nice twist of hatred from the neighbors.

Is it weird that I feel bad for the overweight woman? I mean, she's been set-up as the ultimate white-trash slob, but that doesn't mean someone ought to straight-up murder her. I mean, maybe she's mentally ill? I don't know. It's interesting how you took such a character who, on the surface, is so unappealing, and yet made her tragic, sort of, by having her neighbor kill her. As usual, subject matter dark as pitch from our Lisa, but also as usual, well-written and thought-provoking.

Dear Niklas, You explored this ever so well and I thank you for your in depth evaluation. Sorry the poison didn't work primarily, but am so glad it made sense came the end. Truly appreciate your thoughts on this one.


Dear Ms. B, How do you anticipate how I want my pieces to be perceived? I cannot thank you sufficiently for understanding me consistently. You latch onto what's beneath every time. You get me. My lady is supposed to draw empathy, she's a victim of our society. That you picked up on that elates me. Thank you a million times over.

All the best to you both,
Me

A clever poem, Lisa. Loved the way you wrote it. I like how you manage to make boring details interesting. And the subtle humour doesn't hurt either.

TV's been blaring
near two weeks
hour after hour
of the best bargains
(hurry! only ten remain!).

Was a pleasure to read.

Danke, my dear Farah. Humor seasons the horrible if only to make it palatable. So happy you enjoyed, love.

Hugs,
Me

You have such a way of weaving the unsavory with humor and empathy, making the whole thing a tasty dish that rolls off the tongue smoothly.

I always connect with the underdog! Maybe ,because my whole life that was me--the underdog! So, I felt so sorry for the abandoned woman---who driven by loneliness, must find comfort in food and TV. I wish the nosy neighbor had used her time more wisely, and befriended the sad woman--thus killing 2 birds with one piece of chocolate. Why do people find it so much easier to be cruel than to be kind ??? A sad and disturbing poem on the plight of those forgotten...peace...Jul

Oh how I missed that dark wit you seem to fill in every peace, per usual you have left me both disturbed and humored, very well written, can't wait to read more! as usual keep up the good work.

For me poetry is a lot like opera, I like it but I know better than to try it myself.

Your poems are always such a dark delight to read, please keep posting