Sneering at a leering lady

as she stares and squirms

At Wanda with her saintly smile

and living wig of worms

I like to watch their faces fall

as we disgust and shame them

Seeking suckers is my game

- no longer lion taming.



Like a pink and pregnant pumpkin

perched upon her neck

Wanda Wadkins head was hurting

it was bitten by insects

I watched the awkward way she waddled

walking to the pail

She always used to wash her worms

and clean beneath her nails

I love the soul I see inside her

but I just can't love her

Folding fat that rolls around

like bowling balls in butter.