Burning Child — A politically correct poem
Stop. Don’t speak
a word
sew lips shut with wire
before barbed ire aroused.
We must be kindness-carnate
sweet asphyxiate
in syrup
before a word gets out
that burns.
Smother it pretend
it was an embarrassment
or accident
inconvenient
malformed
useless
unproductive burden on society
kill it before it draws breath
we betters might want later
for ourselves or a normal child
made in our image
Child.
Lest we be woken
from self-induced hypnosis
into soft euthanasias.
A word
rakes blows across our ears
a broom of red coals
scorches us
makes tears to leak
from a wincing pride
that seeks to hide
our deluge behind
a faux rainbow.
Let the word stay unspoken,
lest we wake from dreaming
we are mermaids
at peace with the ocean
we love breathing
water
for we are whatever
gratifies possessive talon
shark teeth frenzied
hag fish half
of two divorced worlds
coupling in slime
where bones
of all the drowned sink down
to final consummation
in the thick ooze
and silent black
of those deep sterile prairies.
Let a burning child stay unfound.
Ignore the ceiling of waves
churning out their confusion
high overhead, no concern of ours
desperate sailors in dark empty seas
whose tall ships are broken.
We’d only wake to drown.