Poetry Monday

Sometimes I jot down little notes when I'm making dinner. For example:

"You are a fucking potato head"

Those hard eyes of yours.
I want to pull them off and
put them where your mouth used to be.

I want to unpeel you and put your
dirty skin down the garbage disposal and
see your underneath, all your bruises.

I want to remove your ears and put them
where your eyes used to be and
then you might hear me.

I could slice off the dark spots with my
sharp little paring knife and
you would be good then.

I could do those things.

Then I could drop you in a big pot
and draw you a very hot bath and
wait until you got all soft in your center.

I’d mush you up, mix you up
with butter, sour cream, and
chives.

I'd scoop you up with my fingers,
my potato head, and
eat you.