Tonight's Poet Corner: Cheers, Officers

Cheers, Officers
by Belinda Roddie

I made sure that my mugshot included
me holding my very favorite mug,
which Jared had made for me as a gift.
He had let it carry out a temper tantrum
in a local ceramics shop's kiln before
intricately painting WORLD'S BEST DAD
in sloppy green paint across its lumpy,
voluptuous, beautiful body. I
am not his dad.

No fat shaming my drinking vessel
of choice here, officers. And no, the paint
is latex-based, not lead-based. Either way,
I'm happy to poison myself by sipping
from it too often, should you decide
that my little stint at the bank deserves
five years of bad food on uniform
black trays and a room with no heating
despite the frost on the bars.

At least Jared will miss me, and he'll
lovingly craft me a blue, lopsided bowl
to go with my mug. Maybe I'll collect
cigarettes in there - I don't smoke,
but I sure as Hell want to keep up
with the currency if I'm going to make
it anywhere in this new civilization.