To Wring a Poem From My Gut

To wring a poem from my gut,

there’s nothing like infuriation,

with acid reflux burning,

comes a verbal deviation.

 

My words seethe from every crack,

I say only in a sarcophagus,

would you be able to silence,

this woman’s throbbing esophagus.

 

Wrenching impotence,

in the face of calamity,

give me a Pepcid Ac

of God’s magnanimity.

 

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