Aftertaste
The concept, at least in analogy,
Was solid, as solid as the bar
Of soap, with which she would
Wash her kid’s mouth to clean
Up his language. She used Ivory
Because it was pure. She could not
Know I would someday write poems.
It was not as bad a trip as the trip
To the proverbial woodshed, but
It, nevertheless, left a bad taste.
It still leaves a bad taste. I mean,
What the fuck was she thinking?
©2024 Bruce Morton All rights reserved.
Bruce Morton divides his time between Montana and Arizona. His collection, Planet Mort, is just out from FootHills Publishing in its Montana Poets series. His poems have appeared widely in a variety of magazines. He was formerly a librarian.