Mother And Mass

Momma poured me over a hot bowl of rice dressing,
kissed my coiled tender flanks and cursed me
with an honest woman's wayward blessing:

"Tis the season," she cried, "to learn life's lessons..."
she spanked me harsh against my underside
until blue my balls dropped in a fresh flesh crescent,
my cheeks reddened and my ruddy ass gash puckered for protection,
I was destined to be this grey-haired harlot's insatiable delicatessen,
but before she could proceed to consume her possession
I posed her only one last question,
with creamy macaroni smeared betwixt my pale thighs
I looked heavenward into her dead eyes and
fixed her with a sullen expression:

"If this be the path to adolescence," I posed,
"and you be but the Lord's servant delivering His ethereal message,
then why overly spike your cup
and spoil this poor innocent vessel?"

She smiled as most mothers often do,
scooped a clump of cheddar cheese from my boy's beef stew,
"I find your questions depressing," she said,
"bend over on the tile
while I sip you like Sunday service refreshments."

TA