Once Upon a Time I Was
       

meow meow every year
till an unknown number of elders

possessed by some copacetic Chronic
earn some extra income to swim

in perfect ecstatic harmony with
a slow Saturday afternoon.

this plot of perseverance sprays
like pleasure boats across

inept domesticity. Obviously
being human, it is awkward.

Once upon a time, moving indefinitely
along an edge implied tiny

wild kittens escaping PBS
subsistence hunting

fear of radioactivity
flickering glandular affluence.

Ancient glaciers oozed light
through the general living room

of America, while an Amish person
in a dark moment considered

low-rise skinny jeans and a dolphin
escaped persecution to form

a unique but purely hypothetical
community full of frolic-like

empathetic aftersex plasma light.
These early bodies exploded

violently. In their wake
a vast overriding rule which

we felt as warmth and later
a junkie's whisper-soft script

dealt with via white cats
behind wavy glass.

Snow on one side, the other
chopped up. Once upon a time

I was born in the ground.

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Copyright © 2014 Elisabeth Workman All rights reserved
from Ultramegaprairieland
Bloof Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission