Baby Ganesh had so many arms that
instead of suckling he milked his mother
like a cow
Ganesh had so many arms that he
couldn’t stop picking his trunk
which grew red and raw
He had so many arms that he played
under the Bramble bushes for
painful months at a time
so many that he hung like a needy spider
in the corner of Pravati’s room
he had so many arms that they
kept him awake for hours at night
with the shadow-lurch of puppet play
but when he cried, overwhelmed
by this crawling multitude,
they became maternal;
a soft cradle of snakes
hissing in the rushes
Ganesh had so many arms that he played
the Chicago Bulls at Boston Garden
and won
he had so many arms he fought a band of ninja
without spilling his sake
so many that they had to play rock, paper, scissors
to see who got to jerk him off
Ganesh had so many arms that he couldn’t
stop challenging himself to multiplayer Warcraft
so many that he was the king of second base (ping!)
so many arms that he plucked 100 whales from the ocean
to practice kissing on
and so many arms that they downtrou-ed him
when his huge mammalian head threatened
to explode
Ganesh had so many arms that his
fingers grew as fast as bamboo
so many that he carried panthers,
vultures, snakes and sharks as currency
so many that after dinner he picked his teeth
with the bones of all the elephants ever
Ganesh had so many arms that giant squid
lusted from the sea to stalk him
so many arms that carnival rides
burned with neon jealousy
Ganesh had so many arms that he wrote
the language of love with a thousand pencils
on his fifteen-minute smoko
so many that he flew like a pterodactyl
through the air plucking the elderly from
small villages
and so many many arms that he held
every lonely thing in his micro-cosmic palms