I brought with me a little boy from the big town,
Big and strong he was,
He rested daily on my bosom,
He reminded me so much of a rotting boat.
Every morning I watched him watch me from the mirror’s reflection,
Taunting me, reminding me of his eternal coarseness,
His hands rested on my face and stretched beneath my bosom,
He reminded me of my rotten handicap.
Today an officer came down from Probation,
The boy, angry, mouthed a curse,
He sulked and remained mum,
He makes me think of a rotting oak.
I carry him on my skin,
He clings to my rotting carcass,
He is now part of my eternal form,
Cruel, he is all too cruel.