after the print by Lisa Kaser
If you wants to impress guppies,
why’d you clamber up the beach?
So, your mother couldn’t love you.
You is ugly as a leech
flecked with eczema and scabies.
Sowhat’s pretty, but deceit?
Anemones is predators. Somesay:
peacocks rarely scream
‘cept whenever they is waking.
Swans is vicious, nasty things
that would sooner gut than greet you.
So. You got no pedigree,
and you hasn’t any thumbprints,
and your knees is capless. Teeth
and lips for bottom feeding
is tremendous aids to speech.
Though your barbels looks like whiskers,
and your snout’s less sharp than cheese,
you’s a species in the making.
Least you isn’t obsolete.
* * * * *
Brenda Mann Hammack is Associate Professor of English at Fayetteville State University where she teaches creative writing, women’s studies, and Victorian literature. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Toe Suck Review, Gargoyle, Mudlark, Caveat Lector,Otoliths, A capella Zoo, Bull Spec, Steampunk Magazine, and Arsenic Lobster. She currently serves as faculty advisor and managing editor for Glint Literary Journal. Her contributions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.