I'm Going to Your Mother's House...

[ChristopherSea]

It was the day birds died,
the day you, me, us departed. *nice opening metaphor, but maybe just ‘the day we departed’*

Seeing you knelt on our bed
trussed like pig on a stick
taking it boy scout style;
gave me an erection. *What an image!*

I was embarrassed. *believable reaction and shame*

why not a Shirley Temple lie *cap ‘Why”*
while licking a lollipop?
It would have been much sweeter
than grunts of infidelity.

I could have pretended. *there’s no acceptable scenario*

The twelve bore was as snug *out comes the shot gun*
as Harry's hairy bollocks,
lay asleep behind its blued-steel door
your bore was less safe.
Harold was a 90's dose master,
the one,
the only eternal crab. *this part is lost on me, perhaps clarify*
I woke the sleeping weapon
blasted your two poodles; *animal cruelty settles nothing*
one barrel per parody. *whether dark and dirty or sweet and kosher, cheating is cheating*
And departed. *of course departed ties into departed, why not use another synonym*

Billy, I like this piece. Catching a lover in the act with another is not a pleasant situation, nor is this poem! I enjoyed the sardonic wit mixed in with the tragedy. That penultimate stanza was muddled for me. The Harry and Harold, dose master (is that a Halo reference?), the eternal crab, all lost me. They may not even benefit the poem, but that is more than likely me. I am not crazy about poodles, but their demise brings out a sociopathic behavior in your protagonist that evokes little sympathy from the reader. Nonetheless it has impact. Just some thoughts and impressions./Chris