MUSED Literary Magazine.
Poetry

A Fatal Romance

Joan Hunt

Hanging on a piece of rope
Was a bar of scented soap
Swinging blissfully in space
In readiness to wash your face
Her shape was perfect like a flower
With perfume of erotic power
One day a rather hunky sponge
Decided he would take the plunge
He asked the soap out for a date
But sadly that just sealed her fate
Against each other they would rub
As they canoodled in the tub
Slowly the soap began fading away
Thinner and thinner she grew every day
Till finally she became so small
There was barely anything left at all
As a tear squeezed from his eye
The sponge kissed her a sad goodbye
For just one day he contemplated
About the bars of soap heŽd dated
Because he knew that come tomorrow
HeŽd recover from his sorrow
And hanging on a piece of rope
Would be another bar of soap.