ripples in the soup bowl

when you’ve traced your secrets into the sand
with a spirit’s hand at the water’s edge
is when the tide washes in to wash it away
& now no one on earth will have ever known you

when your face can’t be a part of this world
at the ripple & quell of a wishing well
your reflection does question former times
where no one said you could be lovely

& you’re wondering why you had to obey
when you did not wish to hold a gun
& you’re wondering why she bothered to stay
when you could not put bread in her hand

those men lined up at the soup kitchen
were never allowed to be more than hunters
with dusty hearts & those lifeless eyes

when grace extends only so far as merit
don’t be so loyal to your suffering
they’ve laid claim to your life without consent
& indentured you to kill in the name of

when disgrace has felled you for the last time
when the muffled gunfire burns in your lungs
when you wake into your funeral wreath
beyond the subatomic algorithm

& you’re wondering why you had to obey
when you did not wish to hold a gun
& you’re wondering why she bothered to stay
when you could not put bread in her hand

those men lined up at the soup kitchen
were never allowed to be more than fodder
with dusty hearts & those lifeless eyes

you can love like no one owes you
you can give however you want
but no man can bend forever
the men lined up at the soup kitchen
were never allowed to be simply human
no man can bleed forever

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

BUT IS IT ART? // Toast of London

1265542358_ornament

TATI: “Hup, hup!” I remember this one, Tony!

TONY: You do? I guess that means you like it, huh?

TATI: Yes, I do! I even remember we wrote a little silly poem for this picture. Do you remember it?

TONY: “Three little Soldiers stand in a row,
Two stand straight and the other bends low.
Along comes the Sergeant and what do you think?
Off pops her halter, quick as a wink.

Bless them and their tiny bazooms,
Their strap-on guns and primed vavooms.
Four little Soldiers ready to blow,
To make sweet jiggy and war not sow.”

TATI: Hee hee hee… exactly. Well, now I’m going to be deadly serious. Where are their epaulettes?

TONY: Eppa—what? I’m not sure what you mean.

TATI: And I’m not sure about ‘bazooms’ and ‘vavooms’.

TONY: Well. Erm. Ahem. Why don’t you just google those, Tati?

TATI: So google ‘epaulette’ and don’t ask questions!

TONY: Okay! Okay! Yeesh…

TATI: Have you served in the military?

TONY: I’m relieved to say that I haven’t.

TATI: I won’t blame you for that. Neither have I. What inspired you to draw this image? Why soldiers?

TONY: There’s a British sitcom that I absolutely adore called Toast of London. It has an opening title sequence that features marching girls, and it’s such a striking visual that I wanted to draw my own version of it.

TATI: Do you consider military girls sexy?

TONY: Generally, no. I don’t have a weird fetish for them or anything. I just like these particular military girls. There’s something undeniably sexy about the way they march across the screen in their bearskin hats and brief bikinis. And there’s something oddly compelling about their flat chests too.

TATI: Poor bears! I protest!

TONY: Well, you have a point there. Those hats are made from the skins of real American black bears. It’s a bit cruel to be sure.

TATI: A bit?! It’s outrageously cruel!

TONY: Yes, a poor choice of word on my part…

Tati runs away, leaving a thick dust trail behind her. Tony blinks in confusion.

TONY: I’ll never understand this flighty girl…

Tati rushes back with a piece of paper and shoves it under Tony’s nose. He blinks some more.

TONY: Erm… what is this?

TATI: A petition! Sign it! Now!

TONY: What’s it for? To get more flat chested women on telly?

Tati hits Tony over the head with the petition. He gives her a confused look.

TONY: What?! It’s a worthy cause!

TATI: Will you sign it or not?

TONY: Fine! Razzin’ frazzin’…

Tony begrudgingly signs the petition. Tati then snatches it from his hand and rushes out the door. He calls after her.

TONY: So… can I post my drawing on our blog?

Faintly, Tati’s voice comes from far away.

TATI: Not on your nelly!

Tony smiles to himself.

TONY: Did she say more flat chested women on telly? I think so. Excellent!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018