If I Get Lucky

This one is based on a dream I had as a child. The people from Scooby Doo and I were hiding under a giant jellyfish's tentacles. When he discovered us, and we floated toward his sharp-toothed mouth, I prayed (I didn't think -- I prayed) "Please, swallow me whole." In my mind, the jellyfish was a God image, or a Life image. Life will chew you to pieces, it really will. In the dream, I decided I would rather be swallowed whole than bitten into.


If I’m Lucky


Please,
swallow me whole;
do not chew me up
into little,
nerve-ended pieces, parts, pickin's
me having to pick
through packages of,
legs, arms,
brains, heart,
and other plump members of me
to put myself back together;

your sharp, Infinite teeth, grope for
gaping wound, open door
to every swoon over shock of pain
I deplore, insane,
your craving heart at no cross-purpose,
slobbering over morsels,
Munch, crunch, munch, *cough*,
spit, +spew+, slaver, *hack*.

So swallow me whole,
please,
the phantasmagoria of life’s
incessant digestion,
a bane to my soft-covering,
self-mothering, human,
hypocritical, selfish, wanting,
self-daunting,
tripping over the shoelaces
I refuse to tie,
identity, self, distinctive me, I.

Because the stomach acid
may just kill me
on contact,
if I’m very, very
lucky.