24 July poem

Flock

I crafted a mourning bowl
to catch the tears of the bereaved.

I fashioned it after a carpenter inspired holy grail
that sold to someone’s mother at the community art fair.

Someone’s mother thought she purchased a lovely walnut bowl
perfect for mints when she hosted her bookclub.

Tears collected from this bowl distill into a magic potion
that brings dolls to life and life size, especially collectable horses.

My house is awash in Barbies of varying IQ
as I tested the formula on thrift shop dolls before perfecting it.

Soon the bereaved started bringing over lost-loved-one dolls—
we learned the hard way not to use customized bobble-heads.

Soon nuns started bringing over Christ encumbered crucifixes
in the hopes of truly being a Bride of Christ.

This created in me a moral quandary far greater
than those of men who brought over their life-size sex dolls.

From that point forward I collected bird figurines
to repopulate the migratory sky.


copyright © Kenneth P. Gurney 2018

 

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