Incongruous Poetry, Part Eight: Tapeworm

We return tonight to an occasional feature that used to appear in my blogs here and elsewhere: poems about things you aren’t supposed to write poems about. This is my all-time champ in that regard, I think.

TAPEWORM

Does he live in your intestine?
(Yes, he does, the tapeworm, yes)
Did you know you let him get in?
(Yes, you did, the tapeworm, yes)
When you didn’t wash your fingers
(No, you didnt, bad boy, no)
After play where kitty lingers?
(Pretty kitty’s tapeworms, yes)
Do you feel his little hookies
(Yes, his hookies, tapeworm teeth)
Clasping where you digest cookies?
(Yes, he likes them, tapeworm, yes)
You get thinner, he gets fatter,
(Yes, he does, the tapeworm, yes)
Mom and Day say “What’s the matter?”
(No, don’t tell them, bad boy, no)
Tapeworm healthy, tapeworm long,
(Yes, he lengthy, tapeworm, yes)
Tapeworm likes this little song.
(See him dancing, tapeworm, yes)
Do you like your little buddy?
(Yes, you do, the tapeworm, yes)
Even when you’re feeling cruddy?
(Don’t get mad at tapeworm, no)
Makes his home in your intestine
(Yes, he does, the tapeworm, yes)
Aren’t you glad you let him get in?
(Yes, you are, you good boy, yes)

Copyright 2003, J. Eric Smith

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