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The Dance of the Ape
The ulotrichous ape dances on her face,
Pirouetting across the scalpel
Which digs into her cornea
Placed in a strait-jacket,
Constricted under light twilight,
Sterile instruments chisel
At her skull
A colliery of unspoken diction;
Her displeasure is bellowed as the ape dances
In the control center of cleanliness,
Spawning future psychiatric patients
Dancing,
Weaving,
Pinching,
Butchery
The shunt stabs into her optic nerves;
Replacing the bruises of an ape
When its overworked glands
Become adorned with perspiration
She was blinded by the
Bracelet for her bravery:
Plastic, cheap, offensive;
But, trembled at the thought of more,
With coriander sprinkled
Over her clumping eyelashes
And the ape still dances on her face,
While a distant picnic proceeds
As she became a quagmire of
Her mother’s nagging, medicine,
English muffins, and heart burn capsules
To defeat the ape,
To feed it to its masters,
I pray for such a day
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This poem is about my mom who endured many eye surgeries this past year. When I got home from school, after my mom had a very complicated eye surgery, I heard her talking on the phone to a friend. She said that "it was like an ape was dancing" on her face. That quote inspired me to write this poem.