Reformed

It's early
And this conversation
Is curling
Around my lips.

But Miss Motherhips
Bumps her indifference.
She gave once two cents
With panache and eloquence.

Now she don't like my inference.

But I've laid up in this manger,
A damp, unstable danger,
Until wisdom came a'calling.
Even after trouble bawling

My eyes clear.
Yes, dear,
What brought me here
Shone brighter than a star

And traced along the scar
Mapped out across my mind.
I watched it all unwind,
Not sure of what I'd find.

This pattern gets me laughing,
Stumbling and mooncalfing.
Coughing till I can't.
Shake out this raspy rant.

A savvy sycophant
Can gain access to the tent.
To wrestling restlessness
And guarded insecurity.

So let's unlaminate our passes.
Stop covering our guilty asses
And go to neutral corners.
We're wreckoning reformers.


1.23.22