B-Minor Ass

From Bad to Verse Dept.: This was written to commemorate a visit my wife and I paid to our daughter in her Manhattan dorm over a year ago, an event that should have included dinner out and some show-seeing -- but she was felled by a stomach bug, the explosive results of which inspired me to take up my pen.

                                                                                   

WE KNEW THE KID WAS
     FEELING ILL,
Our lovely, busy, stressed-out daughter,
But still she rallied, hopeful still –
Until she drank that lemon-water.

Her illness played its grievous start
Upon the trumpet of her ass;
She ripped a double-forte fart
More poisonous than mustard gas.

That richly seasoned blast she blew
Began the oratorio;
She crab-walked to the nearest loo
And sang with all her glory. O –

That trombone’s raspy pedal, and
That bass bassoon she hooted through!
And while she led this hellish band
A thousand meals were blasted, too!

Here’s breakfast from December! Here’s
A lunch! A snack! An apple core!
And worst of all – remember? Here’s
Her dinner from the night before!

The bathroom, once a neutral white,
Is painted now an autumn brown.
It’s time, she thinks, to face the night –
But prone, and wrapped in eiderdown.

O, people come and people go –
They throw their parties, dance and sup;
Her parents go enjoy an show –
But Lily? Lily’s throwing up.

– 27 February 2016