First and Last Wake-Up Call

Lip cracked,
erupted.

Stench of
menthol-infused fists
kisses mouth;

sentient ashtray punch-out.

Penny-flavored,
earthy-scented,
crimson disgust;

skin rising,
purpling dough,
enough to draw sympathy;

not enough for state-intervention.

Manly punishment for talking back.
Lead-knuckled wake-up-call
to first adult decision,

aged sixteen.

Time to go.
***

Shared at dVerse Quadrille #92: Take a crack at poeming, hosted by whimsygizmo. Other poets contributed here.

Also shared at Real Toads  November: Nothing is more memorable than scent, Imagined By Sanaa Rizvi.