Sweet Pea's Lament

Whose timber Mom shivered
to procure a penciled-in kid

goes beyond the unspoken.
I am the never-asked. Pop,

I need some answers. Who
are you and how did Mom's

pencil-thin womb blossom
with any cartoon conception

other than immaculate? A rubber
eraser is a nobler fate than mute

bastardy in a sleeper. Bluto's brat
says I'm adopted. But maybe,

maybe I belong to a better world.
There are letters from Mr. Magoo.

Copyright © 2007 Mitchell Metz All rights reserved
from The Listening Eye
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission