If I was a part of the committee
in charge of designing me,
I wouldn’t have gone for biscuit bones
or the 75 year old hip joint.
I’d have made my wisdom teeth grow straight
and stopped my body at around six foot one.
Instead of paper thin skin I’d have chosen
armadillo shell and a layer of gravel.
And I’d have vetoed the crooked second toe.
I wouldn’t have approved creepy nighttime breathing
and I don’t think I’d have agreed
to the constant negative fog or acorn penis.
I’d have kept the peach arse though,
and the sunflower eyes you opened.

© Carl Burkitt 2020