Sneering at a leering lady
as she stares and squirms
at wanda with her saintly smile
and living wig of worms
i like to watch their faces fall
as we disgust and shame them
seeking suckers is my game
- no longer lion taming.
like a pink and pregnant pumpkin
perched upon her neck
wanda wadkins head was hurting
it was bitten by insects
i watched the awkward way she waddled
walking to the pail
she always used to wash her worms
and clean beneath her nails
i love the soul i see inside her
but i just can't love her
folding fat that rolls around
like bowling balls in butter.