Badger on Badgers
Rarely seen in daylight, I am chubby
but insubstantial. I, of course, love
the poor – noble savages. I have taste
and a plastic bib. Fear death
and foreclosure equally. My shoe
is deteriorating from the inside
out; there’s a crack in the sole
where the mop-water gets in.
I do not trust the Dutch,
nor should you. A scalp
is what you pick sitting beside
the pretty lady on the subway.
I had an ill-connected
uncle who was so sick when his throat
was slit, the blood pooling
on the basement floor was marbled
with thick phlegm. Punch me –
I’ll stand back up.