The Disclaimer
I don’t think there are enough post-Christmas poems, compared to the glut we endure before Christmas. Also, I had read every single waiting room magazine at my job. And two procedures manuals.
The Christmas Zit
By Cheesefairy
It was just after Christmas
Almost New Year’s
My mind was recovering
From presents and beers
I stepped from the shower,
Clean and with grace
But my eyes couldn’t focus
Away from my face
For there on my forehead
Between my two eyes
Was a pimple of marvelous, horrible size!
Because of the chocolate
I’d eaten all week
I expected my stomach- when pressed- to squeak
But I didn’t consider
My delicate skin
So sensitive, insecure
In a word: thin.
The pimple, though, glimmered, it grinned in the light
I stared at it bravely, encouraged its flight
But it only winked back
With its lightly pink eye
I saw no willingness there to comply.
Don’t pick it! The voice of my mother did cry
But there it sat, mocking me, betwixt my eyes.
Every time I stood still to admire my face
The Christmas Zit overtook all time and place.
My measure was drastic
My action was quick
But I shut my eyes tightly
And stabbed a sharp stick
Straight into the centre
Of my evil foe
And I felt no regret,
Not an inkling of woe.
O, I am still host to this splotch on my face
It won’t leave so easily
Or without giving chase
I’m content to mop up its remains with due care
I guess it’s a good thing
I grew out my hair.