A Poem

Because I am jealous of your success

I am placing a wicked, ugly hex

on the birthday gifts I stole from my work 

I'm a humble (yet talented) beauty supply store clerk

Smooth and silky,

a glistening pink

May this lotion give off

an unwashable stink

Let this pricey shampoo 

make your hair greasy

and the scent of this soap 

make your stomach queasy

Here's bottle of bath beads

I'm adding to the box

That flushes the skin scarlet

with a chickeny pox

This gardenia perfume 

will make thee dizzy

This apple conditioner 

shall make thy hairdo frizzy

I'm afraid this eye cream 

promotes crow's feet

and this cellulite oil 

insures a puckered seat

This bleach will make 

that mustache of yours dark

As you - not I - 

perform Shakespeare in the park

With these potions I promise

To tame you, shrew

Then the world will know

My Juliet acts circles around you!

May you look like a raccoon

in this smudgy eyeliner

May this lip gloss give you hair

like lips of your vagina

A war cry to Athena!

Alert all nine muses! 

The gods have bestowed really good parts

to a strumpet who seduces

Producers, directors, agents,

keepers of the gate

you throw yourself at any man in the theater 

who seems straight.

My craft is solid

I can play princess, nymph, or witch

Your movements are wooden

So good luck with that itch

You do not deserve your success

So I must cast this everlasting hex

On the birthday presents I pocketed from my work 

I'm a humble - but soon to be revered -

beauty supply store clerk