three sonnets
by Seth Oelbaum


WANT MOANING

if you're in baths and disinfection room,
then, dw, you'll be clean. you want
to live? you want to work? aren't you baboons!
machine guns! machine guns! mummy—she honks
cars from behind. will light ever go green?
yell-stars, these are your last moments. french fries,
hamburg, growling-growl—our tummies? empty!
by the pillar, the yell-star girl will die:
give her goldie chain to her boyfriend, dear.
mummy boyfriend's to restaurant vietnam.
teddy and i…sigh: we hate it in here.
we want moaning—wailing: sweet, screaming songs.
make us into ash any time or day.
mummy halts at yell light: "it's safe, ok?"


MASSY MISS

mummy's razy's on weewee-room sink top.
come, come—do drop: teddy and i can grab
goody blades to hate u s aids. can't stop,
won't stop—holler-slots march in frost. sad?
super! we wish a blondi would starve us!
shucks! mummy's razy's pink like grossly girls.
light blue, where are you? holler-slot, you klutz,
get up! red wrists are rad…but…but…our world?
it's 21st c! where's bloody gutters
and ravines? f you, wrists, you're deemed useless!
when mummy cribs, she'll be mad, like butter
turned bad. blondi blue eye—we massy miss
your pistols prettying yell-stars' backies.
mummy steams up in skirt colored khaki.


BOMBS BURN

in thumbsucking, teddy and i go gone
from gal-lies and their gaggle of gross grapes.
tucked under discounted covers, we long
to bunker with reich-rule. though his hands shake
and his tummy aches, he won't move a hair.
but why does mummy munch tuna salad
in night's middle? she tries shushing white stairs,
but like yell-stars, her hiding's invalid.
trucks, truck us to smoky buildings. reich-rule,
you're cup of water spills. son of a—! gallies
bombs burn rivers. rocket them! those ghouls:
they're un-cool. stupe sun rises: morn chirps now.
but mummy despises to bye her bed.
teddy has a dream! pink, red, and green flesh.