Joan (Joan Rivers: 1933-2014)

She gagged with revulsion
as I gagged with laughter
this daughter of the Torah
our own Queen Esther
Lower East Side wise-ass-wit
bitchy-biting blurbs
“can we tawk?”
can you wawk-the-wawk
and endure this noo yawk
jive and jibes that pierce
the pride of pompous princes
and pimps a 1927 noo yawk
Yankee Murderers Row
of home runs scoring
with pin-prick precision
Red Carpet that heightened
the blushing celebs who
looked like tomato-heads
with no script to respond
to veiled and direct and
right-on fun observations
and double-entendres
at their expense
in their expensive garbs
a stchick became a trait
that characteristic retort
to questions direct and
begged and self deprecation
masking the confidence
to dole out and take
the rough trade of
caustic comedy
poke-in-your-eye
deceptive lies you told yourself
that Joan saw through and
power sawed through those
petty white lies and
grand illusions of importance.
I gag in revulsion on how she left us.
©TPuma/MMXIV