The Sand Hill Review               http://www.sandhillreview.org 2009

Bad Poem, Bad Bad Poem

I gave you

paper. You

tore it into

small pieces

and ate them.

I gave you

a red crayon.

I said,

“Don’t even

think about

going roseate

on me!”

Now look at you.

Your face is

all over crimson

with mauve

under your chin.

I gave you

a stool.

Now you’re

up on my desk,

flapping your arms

like some

criminal

cherubim.

Stop fidgeting.

What will I do

with you?

Palmer Pinney