Side Effects That May Occur While Reading This

Dad lost nipple. Married beauty queen. Late ’45:
On her back, Mom: legs elevated. Forceps.
Upstairs, closeted. Downstairs, Dad, moil: bris
Beneath Grandpa’s leonine Rushmore nose. Furious
Liberated Mom attacks Rabbi inhaling schnapps. Tushy
Effigy’s grainy black and white: Ra Pha El posing

Laid in wait for newborn brother Jeff-suppose
I’d bashed him with Johnson’s powder can? In ’47:
Flung unpinned diaper loaded ala Jackson Pollack’s squushiest
Effect. Tonsillectomy meal wouldn’t fly. O Nurse’s footsteps.
Grandma’s sunlit candied orange slice on glass smiled victorious.
Lightheaded ’73: hallucination of wife’s affair. Inform pharmacist

Or wipe ass in ’49 with poison ivy kiss?
Risk: suicidal thoughts. Trick: suicidal flight frozen
In shooting distance, ’59, of iced-over quarry: lovesick-serious
Or merely trying to drown self pity alive?
Undercover, under bed, Wicked Witch’s fingers crept
Stiffly toward toddler’s bobbing Adam’s apple. Backfiring tush,

Dry mouth, dizziness, bizarre behavior: talking gooseberry bush
Enraged at ’68’s exaggerated feeling of apotheosis.
Check with doc. Contact shrink. Irritable, hostile missteps
Exalt self-hating randiness in ’96—insomniac suspicions arose.
Psyched caregiver closely observes  Ra Pha El nosedive
This swelling of the mouth’s itchy, circumlocutious

Ill-at-ease hodgepodge that refused the family business.
Offspring: Sarah, Jonah, Eli—no close-ups of tush.
Note: You left me with Mom crazed in ’73,
Wendy cries. What brother abandons sister with this
Epic witch? Chased with broom in ’59, I froze.
If you, my visitant, wouldn’t mind, take a giant step

North toward memory’s rat-tooth-grasping forceps;
Go to town on decreased sexual desire’s luxurious
Allergic reaction to this hybrid formula’s polyphonic prose, 
Reader Dearest. Black or bloody stools? Shush...
Tranced-out boomer extracted by specialist from oceanic abyss’s
Eureka step number one: Birth canal interruptus? Slow diving

Nipper proven unreal yet present even so. It’s late
’45. Forceps. Bris. Glorious tushy, posed plum blossoms conjure
Son of Mike who talked to strangers. Gone dark.