Missile Toe
by Sandra S. Corona

Can’t keep up with my missile toe
which usually fires in bed.
I’ve a hole in my right stocking.
(Momma said, “Its twin’s in your head.
How else explain that missile toe?”)

Listed as ‘missing in action,’
missile’s a secret transaction.
Men in Black to me are flocking.
(I really don’t care what Ma said--
that rocket is ready to blow.)

Ma said, “Couples stand under missiles.”
(But they run when my toe whistles!)
That rocket keeps me from showering.
My body smells awful, I’m red.
How does one wash rockets? You know?

That missile toe hates cold weather.
(I wrap it in a toe sweater.)
The rest of my right foot’s freezing
it doesn’t want to leave the bed.
Why have I a cold, metal toe?

I, a stooge in the Army,
did volunteer for duties … swarmy.
They gave me a choice when drilling.
Didn’t want my arse filled with lead.
Considered my nose … had to blow.

Caught by a rat who bit my toe
you should have heard that thing bellow.
Back to the states I’m returning
with a missile stuck in my head
You’d best keep your voices soft, low

just think of my old missile toe!


Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!