|
Hard to Swallow
The cake that is a two-day process
The one that never appeared
In three birthdays of begging
Showed up
Four months away
From any day at all.
The last fork of heaven
Left his mouth
When she wriggled in her chair
Was everything all right?
He focused
As if the Chinese mustard
Was undiluted.
A steak he had not seen in months
Broccoli-free salad
And a second bacon-bitted potato placed
With a smile
Not a caloric eye in sight.
And cake to boot.
She touched his hand gently and said
Dear.
Damn that lawn service guy
Or the UPS driver
Or maybe the roofer next door
His hand left hers
To run a finger
Over the sacred cake
Some day laborer would be Twinkie-wolfing
Anon.
That poem you wrote
For the next Christmas card
Made the rounds at book club
No one understood it.
His barren soul filled
For a moment of maternal woe.
Destined for discard with
Updates on Jenny's braces
And Bob's salmon outing
With a sing-songy
That's nice
Then on to the electric bill
Without even an obliging week
Under the scrutiny
Of the pizza magnet?
Not understood?
Offspring wrapped in
India ink placenta
Pulsing with potential
Yet strangled from lack
Of ocular oxygen?
Misunderstood
Not understood
Van Gogh
Stravinksy
Joe Cocker
And now
Him.
The frosted finger trailed along
From bashful cheek
To Adam's apple deep.
The Bohemian adumbrator
Hoisted apron and all
Off to a night of glory knowing
His skill of obfuscation
At last
Was clear.
Mach One-Half
(Ode to My Son)
The pricey bottom-tipped bottle
Streams ketchup with elegant grace
A gentle red stream
Of boredom.
Let's get the bargain brand
Drain half of it
On an unsuspecting wiener
And let the good times
Rip.
Half told
Bean jokes
Gush milk from his nose
Deepening his chortle
And defining
Authenticity.
Over-cooked coconuts
Risk shrapnel too dense
But microed marshmallows
Risk nothing a good laugh
Won't absorb.
Hit the quick start
Stand here
And listen low.
Beds get obligingly made
And choreographed constellations
Yield nicely folded napkins
On occasions.
But the joyful agony
Of alphabelching
Or the dog's cut cheese
Proves the rest to be idle chatter
That simply does not
Resonate.
[Home]
|
