Q-Tip

By
First
A soft cotton swab
Graces an infant's precious face
Carefully grooming maintaining sustaining

It proceeds to guide us into childhood
It uses bound only by the imagination
A baton for Barbie
Two sticks protruding from a young girl's ears
As she performs Frankenstein's monstrous march
A field of cottony shafts flooded by Elmer's glue
Ready to be molded into the next Sears tower

Angst filled years soon follow
Cotton tools jammed smeared dabbed
Makeup darkened eyes
Soft tips used to blend a face
Into a crowd of plastic complexions

Its uses altering over the fleeting years
An unspoken necessity for a household of
Precious infantile bliss
Roaming creativity
And teen desperation

Yet it is not until the end
That we realize the futility
Not until the mortician
Bends to apply the rouse
To our pale, porcelain features





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