Poem #129 of 365

Run over there with this clothespin
and clamp that snoring mouth shut,
'cause he's bound to wake the baby,
and I won't, will not have that tonight.

So then drag the red wagon
up near to his bed, before
the milkman comes to
clatter the porch, and roll his
whole body down into the wagon
and pull him quick through the
gate to the yard, where the
clotheslines are hanging back there.

And take hold of his collar
and both of his liquor-soaked
legs, and hoist him high up
over the lines, and use more pins
and the rope if you must.

O, this is pitiful tonight.

I can just see the birds all
flying down on him, 'til that
first whiff of his stinky
drunk's breath. But just so he
don't get hurt, if he happens
to fall, take some pillows to
throw down beneath.

And honey, we don't mean
to mock him a fool any
more than he made
of himself on his own.

And we can't be worrying
about the neighbors neither,
so go do what I asked and
please don't you cry,
'cause your drunk daddy right now
must be hung out to dry.

Your daddy must be hung out to dry.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez