God Poems, Misc Poetry, Poetry

Tick Tick Tick

Father Time is the G-rated
Version of the voracious
God who ate his children.

Father Time taps his
Tick-tock at me gently
Sighs, smiles, shrugs and
Smooths his lustrous beard.

The voracious god, belly
Full of children
Looks me up and down and
Makes rude comments about
How my tits used to be higher.

I trust this god more.
Our relationship is complicated.
When he leans in for a kiss
His breath stinks like children
And it gets my childless womb
All in an uproar.

I kiss him back anyway. I kiss
Him passionately until his
Breath stinks like safe sex,
Guiltless liquor on weeknights, and
A liberation I’m not even sure
I believe in. It makes him gag
And vomit up his precious children.

-M.

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