Three Poems from THE HORIZONTAL POET by Jan Steckel, MD

She’s about to go nuclear
on your ***, so take cover.
If you’ve no room to wait,
get out of the waiting room.
Blame it on fat, genes,
or name it plain fate.
Cover the affected part
with your hand
and ask the Lord
what kind of sadist
He thinks He is anyway.
Pansy-*** cracker.
Visualize fragments
of calcified cartilage
sawing a cable
that powers her leg.
Power down. She’s imploding.
Was that you imploring
her please to be patient?
She’s somebody’s patient
pending authorization
enduring the cat’s scan
or any other pet’s scan.
A bulldog’s been crunching
her spine in its jaws.
Hear the crack, as of crab shell.
Her marrow’s been spit out.
She’s going to nova.
She’ll be the gamma ray.
You be the marigold.
Sign on the dotted line,
and you may feel
a sense of release.

(“A Sense of Release” first appeared the e-zine Instant Pussy, Issue #14, August 2007)
 

Jan Steckel, 2007