Elsie's Random Poetry

Elsie has given me permission to publish the random poems she wrote while crossing the country to VA. She even gave each poem a title:

Bumblebee in an Open Jar

The wall beside her hoped for commutation
The orange jumpsuit, a symbol of elbowroom snatched away
In the maze of locks, bars, thin mattresses.
At first they believed he had an aneurism.
Intelligence officers could tell by the
Number of bruises he wore, his demise was ushered
By a soldier in the war against patriarchal abuse.
The circumcision of his heart revealed stone
Cold chambers,soot-black, resonant with evil
Pleas, a literal gift to the darkness of the age.

Born too Soon

Bucktoothed without a name,
Masturbation was his game.
Slaying sabertooth tigers with the
Sculptress who molded candlesticks for
Matins, he prayed that his
Firstborn would learn to love his image,
Stretchable and strong, his stride would
Straddle the pain of deities tucked into
Inconsequent corners of once-upon-a-time,
Obedient to his shame for having tried.

Glass Armor

His knighthood corrupted like lampblack for want of calomel, he had a fish-eyed gaze to seek an oligarch who would diminish the sigma of anxiety. Mid-week brought relief. He survived to reach a pencil that marked an exclusive hour to ponder a secant measure, a portentuous bedpost, the paragon of passion in the chambers of his memory. A Burmese maid, a British Lord, a French soldier, all vitrifiable, abounding with attempts to cavort in armor too fragile to shield a sword.