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Spray Foam Insulation Guide for Homeowners
by Eli Skipp
There are these crooked children, she says,
born with
emaciated shadows and no language,
piano-key teeth and sweating eyeballs,
and when they wiggle their tongues
all that comes out is
pink foam.
Their houses have been stripped of
wiring & plumbing for the copper
and become gravid with squalor,
yellowing lawns and great distances
between neighbors.
When we find them, she says,
they speak to us in tongues and plead
"Somos las novias del diurno,
por favor, perdónanos."
We pick them up and suck
the foam from their tiny wet mouths
and whisper
"Nuestra culpa, hijas,"
then lay them to back to sleep
where we found them.
08/25/2011 Posted on 08/25/2011
Copyright © 2025 Eli Skipp
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Meghan Helmich on 08/25/11 at 01:00 PM Always happy to see you on the recently posted list. This is haunting. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 08/25/11 at 06:48 PM Frightening, deeply strange write. You certainly had my attention. |
| Posted by E. A. Pugh on 08/25/11 at 07:36 PM Irresistible title and surprising content, Loved it! |
| Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 09/15/11 at 09:59 PM I love everything about this. |
| Posted by Frankie Sanchez on 04/08/12 at 04:49 AM What Nadia said before me. |
| Posted by LK Barrett on 04/13/12 at 10:06 PM ...so sweetly sinister and yet somehow still speaks of bone-deep knowledge of the self. There is nothing to forgive, is there? great write, tyvm, lk |
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