nubbin teeth budded in my pink mouth
enough for me to chew bland mush my
giants spooned to me for nourishment;
damn them…for I deep needed tart lemon
sour pickle…sweet vanilla on my tongue
their Santa lies transmogrified wonder
to fat laps fake beards…fly specked nasty
so abhorrent even outstretched fingers
on a Sistine ceiling cannot heal my wound
and I regret…regret…oh damn me;
my malnourished words moistened
beige I…now enormous with their
power…I dutiful and diligent…slip
pale listless to the innocent
Bonnie Marshall
Art by Claude Monet
Proem... 
Hello there Bonnie…This one has been sticking in my visual mind’s eye. As if recalled from a scene in a play or a movie. I love the dialect sound of the voice. I bet you’d write great screen plays if you were so inclined.
Jana, I do write screenplays…(won an award, yet no green light) and think we both write with drama compression. I’m hoping you write for stage or screen yourself. Most rewarding…not monetarily (wrylie) yet, to be able to create a world is amazing. Smiles and grateful thanks…
It’s a treat to read your poetry again Bonnie. Having returned after a year’s absence from WP I’ve been catching up, visiting where and when I can. I’m glad you are still here.
I’m de-lighted to see your smiling face again, John. Smiles…
PS. The green titles under ‘Browse’ read like a poem of chance. I’m loving it…
Well now, yes…serendipity two other poets…sensitive to language like you…found and played with for the sheer fun of it. Love it when that happens. Smiles..
engaging poem. the second stanza crackles with electricity. to be nothing more than innocent? not much of an accomplishment, is it? the persona in your poem suggests that innocence is a curse. how “disruptive!”
A persona experiment, yet always truth. Glad you found it. Smiles…