Toe Jam

Baudelaire sits in my living room trimming candle wicks and his toenails
with a pen knife.

A Nor' Easter blows into town 
like a circus running from debt.

He asks for a lantern. I show him how to turn on the floor lamp 
and overhead lights, but no luck. He sits in the dark.

The wind keens, the moans of dinosaurs 
wailing their extinction.

I have to read him the Wiki article on Fleurs du Mal over and over, like reading
Goodnight Moon to a child. He appears to understand English.

Lightning from Dr. Frankenstein 
bringing his monster to life.

He wears his flâneur costume with that floppy bow tie. 
He's back to picking his toes.

Gusts of snow mad as hornets
sting my face.

Let's be honest, the opium and syphilis have not been kind to him. His skin is mottled 
and orange like a pumpkin.

And then leaves town, vamoose,
with the runaway girl.

Shay’s Word Garden

11 thoughts on “Toe Jam

  1. See, this is what you get when you let possums read too much Margaret Wise Brown mixed with dead French poets! In their mad pursuit of edible trash and higher learning, and with all those brats on their backs, lady possums can go a little bit bonkers, especially being left outdoors in inclement weather when the fireside is so cozy and there’s just you there, hogging it all. Why don’t you say to the possums, stop running all over the place, and stay here and be my little possum? If you don’t, you’re a poop head. Or so I read. 😛

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sounds like it’s a character you know well and have a fond affection for. I love this part:
    “A Nor’ Easter blows into town
    like a circus running from debt.”
    What a great and lively poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Poor Baudelaire. He obviously spent way too much time stopping to smell the flowers of evil. This cracked me up, qbit, and it’s full of great similes and turns of phrase, as others have quoted. I wish *my* possums could write this well. All they want to do is eat marshmallows and spew out the occasional substandard haiku.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply to Helen Dehner Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.