Look at this bodacious poodle who was made
because I prayed for a good harvest.
Girls are carrots; they call me “labradoodle”
because I will never have a thigh gap, Thank God.
However, I know my Breeder better than my
pastor. I look like Him.
Make it slowly. I lick the beaters of my creamy word-batter: “throw in
gobbling unicorns and sniffling wisteria comforters.”
Father asks why I hide my word-friends under
my mattress, but dad knows why.
Dad says a tongue that can type is penniless without
false advertising, now I’m a newspaper because mom said so.
Wait, I thought I could be president of the United States
or sing to jaguars like a Disney princess.
Was the world right to say my future is to be a Reese’s
in a grocery store until I graduate to weather girl?
Oceans say take me deeper than my feet could ever wander.
My plans are yours and You are mine.
To fulfill, you are made to be nibbled
the hottest boy in the world said.
I WILL NEVER be a couch again- You hear me?
I was not made to be wrecked.
Sugar bowl scratched that I was made to love. I
smile today, for I know who is correct.
Good Fruit 