I’m a hunter, brave and bold
Act like I am five years old
Unlike any mature human
What I choose to hunt’s a woman
Sixty years of weakened age
That’s on whom unleash my rage
A plus — she is disabled too
Easier for me to do
All the things which helplessness
Make me shock, awe and impress
I would never face an equal
Rather rage just like a bull
Pound and bang my tantrum in
Knock and yell at childish whim
You don’t listen to my bitchin’?
Then I’ll just mess up the kitchen
So little value has my word
No matter what you have heard
No matter how I laugh and talk
I’m a person does not balk
At taking of her income two
Thirds, and then I — wouldn’t you? —
Kick her out right here and now
Not caring the slightest how
She will make it through the day
Cold and hungry, glad to say
She wouldn’t pander, wouldn’t jump
Hump when I said “Time to hump!”
Wouldn’t pay attention to
Me all damn day long — would you?
Of course you would, at every second
In which your master has beckoned
After I eject her, slate
You for my next vict — ah, roommate
*****
Among us, poets are not paid. The poet/editor of this website, being physically disabled, lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Become a patron of the fine arts at: https://www.gofundme.com/are-you-a-patron-of-the-arts
