Moral Gymnastics

 Poetry 11

Do a flip, infidel
Infidelity upon you and yours
Divorce brings screaming I hate you tantrums
holding the child in-between
like a hate-filled sandwich
Verbal gymnastics as seen from above
Frozen frames and long flies off the vault
New flames burn out after arguments
at rivers and parks
and love by the trains
A teacher teaches, a coach dances
No circus here for the fear gets slapped out of you
until you do the damn flip
No rest for the wicked sneaking down the stairs
slacking at practice
But the medal is won
and the place on the pedestal the same
Petals reigning down for the matriarch of sports masters
and majesty dressed in black leotards, humbly
This child will be the fucking death of me
if he doesn't eat
The soup is too hot and the newspaper blots out
the patriarch's hearing
Snowfall blankets the trees like bird's wings from above
around its young suckling thumbs
Misbehavior manages to melt it all with rage
as the rug gets pulled out
Broken vacuums still collect dust
it's just a matter of perspective, typically from above
Usually canted when she can, slanted close-ups
and hands holding the beam, lowering
Swing out the leg near to the head!
Rotate and dip, but you can't avoid him
sleeping with your wife, bored and restless
But you're doing the same
the circle of marriage is a ring without meaning
As much as your life of cycles, repeated
So make something of yourself and enjoy it
Maybe they'll cheer for you too before the end
Just depends on how flexible you are
What you can handle before the bends



[Inspired by Something Different]