26 - 30

26. The guitar is backwards,

The imperative inflection intrinsic

To villainous  vibratos is left to the left hand.

My entire hand-written expression is based

On my right, but my musical livelihood is placed

On the hand that can’t throw a football.

27. I wish them poison ivy,

 Frostbitten fingers,

And hot flashes.

I want their blood to clot,

And for their cokes to be flat.

I wish for them to be forced

To buy tampons for their sisters.

28. Jesus must have smoked weed. He hung out with twelve dudes in sandals and dirty robes  that had few possessions, and worked temp jobs. He overindulged in his last meal, so many rolls at the last supper. He didn’t feel the pain of whips and chains not because of God’s grace, but because THC numbs the senses and makes one more forgiving.

  

29. There’s smoke on your breath,

And I can’t drink after you

Because smoke makes Pepsi taste like piss.

There’s yellow between your index and middle finger,

A target so the doctor can know the source of your struggle.

You shadow box with me still, but my reach has over shadowed your

And your punches hold more weight,

A greater testament to your

Teeth pulling

Now archaic naval name

Stonehand Skinner.

30. “I didn’t know they let colors work here,”

Dear god Mawmaw not again.

A true southern woman through and through,

And she loved to prove it often,

Healthy tips can’t cover up racism.

That night still clots her blood,

The day her Velvet Elvis poster became a mausoleum.