And once you lose the weight
If you do ever
You will have hours of free time
To focus on everything else you
Hate about your body. The algorithm
Has products for those things too.
-M. Ashley
Tag: National Poetry Month
NaPoWriMo: My Apple Watch Registered Exercise Goal Exceeded Between 12-1am
We call this sex high
Intensity cat burglary
Midnight jazzercise
Panic attack—
The happiest kind.
-M. Ashley
Happy National Poetry Writing Month everyone!
Dogs (NaPoMo Day 5)
Dogs have races. Dogs have war.
Dogs have Shakespeare.
I think someone ate a dog in some
Shakespeare play.
I got that from a movie where a teacher
taught Shakespeare.
Simulacra upon simulacra
the coolest concept in sociology.
I see a dog in a meadow. He is well cared for.
Sometimes when we think of dogs
we get a pain in the pit of our stomachs because
we think of dogs being mistreated.
Innocence makes us fear guilt.
Little children sing creepy songs in horror movies
give us the chills.
Serial killer has the heart of a child.
Animals are innocent.
Shark seeks food and procreation
the height of evolution.
Lamb of God doesn’t bleat
on the bloody altar.
-M.
Around the World in 20 Taboos
Cow meat. Shellfish.
Touching pork and alcohol.
Red lipstick on strict Baptist women.
Entering the temple with your street shoes on.
Walking on your mother’s white carpet
with your street shoes on.
Genital piercing. Genital mutilation.
Showing your face. Showing your ankles.
Cutting your hair.
Sex. Porn-a-plenty. Masturbation.
That one kink no one talks about.
Having other gods before me.
Cooking cabbage in the office microwave.
Dishonoring the corporation.
Tattooing little children blue with bush thorns.
Cultural relativism.
-M.
(The prompt was “taboo.” I knew at some point I would find a use for my sociology degree.)
Controlled Substances (NaPoMo Day 4)
My pharmacist’s assistant boyfriend
gained weight.
It brings us closer as our fingers
touch over the Hydrocodone
and our wrinkles show
and our noses shine
under the fluorescent lights.
I say in a low voice
You know they’re for my mother.
He leans forward and says
so gently
I know. I remember you.
I tell him they’re for my mother every time
to prompt his sweet nothing.
I am unashamed. I flounce
out of the pharmacy with my narcotics
and swing my hips with purpose.
-M.
(I’m starting a little late for National Poetry Month’s 30 in 30. I owe you three. I’m on it.)
National Poetry Month: We Can Do Eet!
It’s finally here! April is National Poetry Month everybody, so get your pens a-blazin’, get out there, and free the verse! The challenge is to write a poem every day this month. Great, good, bad, worse, worsest, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is laying lines. Give it a try and I won’t even make you dress all poet-y like these dudes.
And if that’s not enough to entice you, here’s the After School Special pitch: C’mon man. You know you want to. I told all my friends you were cool. Don’t make me out to be a liar.
-M.
M. N. Ashley 