Monday, March 5, 2018

March 5, 2018


Queued to renew driver's license,
I spy some forms that plead donate
your organs, don't take them with you.
I consider how the mortician
will make chopped steak of them or burn
to dust to decorate some garden plot,
or scatter and make some mountain
or lake a couple pounds bigger.
I decide to get a leg up on immortality,
go green, join the recycle revolution,
implement piecemeal reincarnation.
I remember the old adage Charity begins
at home
, so hereby make a plan
and will—donate some parts
to folks I know.

My right foreleg to Pegleg Pruitt
who donated his to a jungle in Viet Nam.
Two toes go to cousin Tom who blasted
his off with a shotgun propped on his foot.
My right hand I hand to classmate Karl
who shot his off to escape the draft.
Uncle Nehi gets a nod—both knees,
he wore his out begging Aunt Nancy
for forgiveness. My intestines ship
to neighbor Nabob who I heard Dad say
one time lacked the guts to stand up
to his bossy wife. My heart I hope shall
enliven Aunt Hilda who some folks
claimed never had one. My chin I will
to Uncle Charlie whose own so weak
atop a long neck, he looked like
a terrapin without the stripes.
My teeth shall be titled to cousin Tim
and tell his daughter Tina she won't
have to see her dad gum it anymore.
My bountiful nose I offer to neighbor
Norville who insulted mine so he can
know how it feels to walk a mile
with another man's schnooze.

My eyes please send to Grandpa George,
who often said he didn't "see into it"
about Social Security rules.
My bad ear I bequeath to Brother
Barney who would love a bona fide
excuse to listen to his gabby
Gertrude only half the time.
And finally, I bestow my brain,
wrinkled and lightly used,
to my buddy Billy Bob
whose teacher once declared
he didn't have one.

by Wesley Sims
in volume 6 issue 2

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