Sometimes poems are just for kicks

I like to play with words and words into verses and verses into poems. Who doesn’t? Sometimes a poem is important and moves the moral narrative forward to a better place. These are the poems I love to read and find. But sometimes I like to write poems just for kicks. So here is a poem that is not an important poem, nor a particularly good poem. But I hope it makes you smile. This poem is dedicated to my friend, or to you,  on a day whose ‘wasband’ gave her an unacceptable word assault. (You know who you are).
 
The disgruntled wife
His words spewed from his mouth
like an angry cartoon.
She could see them hitting his carpet
capunk! capunk,! anvils on his floor.
she did the only sensible
thing to do at times like these
she collapsed his mandibles
then squeezed his eyeballs into one
an insufficient cyclops
organs tissues then cells
turned to a marbled ball of blood
and skin    she crawled onto those spaces
his molecules and atoms next
collapsed with no space
their galactic distances condensed
without their air       he was so small
smaller than a mote of dust
satisfied the disgruntled wife
began to clean HER  house
but she could not see him
so she hoovered him by accident
his ugly words no longer
on Her carpet.