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Graven Images (The Death Rattle Of J. Alfred Prufrock)

John Jessup Kennan 1953 (Pomona)

I've grown weary of the questions
You insist that must be asked
You'll sleep in peace with opium
Strangled with a vital mask
I will make your skull my soup bowl
Fill it full of Cherub Stew
Angel wings and angel dust
Stirred in the juice I drain from you

Then I'll drag you to the table
For another round of talks
And watch it all on the big screen
Up in a luminary box
In the arena I created
Every heathen is a pope
I'll cropdust it with gasoline
Strike a match and have a smoke

Come and go
Toppling the statues
Of Michelangelo

No question is too difficult
I promise anything you ask
So come to me, my darling
I will wear you like a mask
In the cinematic bistro
The sandwiches are dope
A queen on every street corner
A strategically-placed pope

Meet me in the grain bread aisle
I'll feel you comin' through the rye
Purge wheat fields with ecstasy
From a laser gleam inside your eye
I watch you like an eagle, baby
You know, you really turn me on
Sleep all day till the sun goes down
Make love until the dawn

Come and go
Toppling the statues
Of Michelangelo

They say the hole is greater
Than the sum of all its parts
Your thighbones are the drumsticks
For the pounding of my heart
Your clavicles the handles
That secure me through the slide
You gotta be at least this high
To ride upon this ride

Umbilical cords rot away
Belly buttons give a wink
They say purple is for royalty
But I gotta have my pink
When this beast has had its holy feast
Satiate unsatiable taste
I'll grind you into angel sausage
Now I lay you down to waste

Come and go
Toppling the statues
Of Michelangelo

 © John Kennan 6-19-20, with apologies to T. S. Eliot
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Submitted by rankstranger7 on May 24, 2021

1:37 min read

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