NaPM April 18 2014

[ChristopherSea]

Digs under House

We bury things beneath our homes,
normally unmentionables.
Odd treasures most could do without,
but one day, have a need for them:

Chocolate bars grandma gave to us
just before our daily meals.
Mother deemed it sabotage,
but it was grandma buying love.

Yellow pills that mother swallowed
when we were behaving badly.
Curious, we pilfered them
to know what made her happy.

Cans of baked beans and baby peas
that my tasteless Dad made us eat.
They will keep for centuries,
until the next apocalypse.

Gory horror magazines
my parents would not let us read;
those images kept me up at night,
but now I'm awake for no reason.

R-rated movie videos
that babysitters let us watch,
less disturbing than the nightly News
with body counts from Viet Nam.

Tumblers our aunts offered secretly
filled with cocktail potions,
which made the silly games we played
the center of attention.

Tainted panties cousins flashed,
on those special holidays;
I’ve never looked at Tweety Bird
in such a naughty way.

Knobby knees of distant uncles
that had us straddle them like ponies;
I'm glad that was the only thing
that pounded against my hiney.

Mr. Rodger’s Play Boy collection
boxed up high in the attic.
We never saw those girls next door,
they were from another planet.

Beat generation poetry,
flaunting homosexuality,
but Ginberg’s hairy anatomy
scared us straight eternally.

Ribbons of semen expelled weekly
for models in their lingerie.
Thank you Cosmopolitan-
for showing us what to do with these.

Some things we hide in the crawl space,
where they are less conspicuous,
but we can dig them up again
when the madness of life digs at us.