It was my niece’s birthday yesterday. Thought it would be fun to write her a silly birthday poem. Kudos to Dr. Seuss, one of my earlier poetic influences. Now that I think about it…does anyone want to commission a birthday poem? Heheheheheheh.
FOR DUI, ON HER BIRTHDAY

Rattle the salad forks! Bang on the gate!
For today is the day that Dui turns eight!
Today is a marvelous day, yessiree!
Today is a day of splendiferous glee!

This spectacular day entitles you to:
The services of Mrs. Amelia Fu
and Mr. Von-Woodle-Von-Strudel-O’Hare
Our two Birthday Specialists, Extraordinare
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I peel away layer from layer
revealing firm
veined flesh beneath
white and smooth

a thousand darts sting my eyes
pure pain assails my nose
as I tear away strips
of skin with my knife

my eyes blur
a flood of sweet
relief trickling
down my face

How curious that the tears
no tragedy could wring from me
are now summoned by
an onion.

as did Abraham, long ago,
when he laid his Isaac
upon the altar of his God.
So do I place my offspring
on the butcher’s block
for yet another round
of literary infanticide.
Cheerfully
do I kill my children.

I genuflect on cold white tile,
arms encircling
the potbellied deity
here enshrined. 

My head falls limp
in silent repentance.
I repeat a hundred resolutions
in my mind. 

Stomach heaving.
Heavy breathing.
Eyes welling up.
Acid burns my throat raw,

as I am purged of
my foolish excesses,
here, in the echoing chamber
where sits the ceramic god. 

It pops out of the toaster
with an off-key DING,
lift it gingerly with
fingertips scorching,

Deliver and drop
on delicate china,

Scrape idly with a silver knife
making little mounds of
burnt,
black,
bitter
crumbs cling to the white tablecloth.

Fill out its charred pores,
conceal its cooling surface
with a field of sweet yellow margarine
smoothed out evenly.

Drift into a pretense
of languid eating
and check a sigh
for something else
grown cold.

Will you let me play?
Was what he asked.
And naively I held out
my heart.

I have learned since then
these two things:

That toys are inevitably broken;
And playthings are soon outgrown.

Having this understood
I grew prudent
with my much-mended heart.

Until I later learned:

That which careless boys
are quick to discard;
a man picks up to cherish.

I was mugged
some weeks ago
while waiting
for a bus.

At knifepoint, he took:
my wallet containing
a quarter-month’s salary,
my credit cards
and two cellular phones.

I was reeling,
and relieved
that he spared me my life.

But before he left,
he turned and said:
“Take care.”

Life’s a bitch that serves up
well-wishing muggers.

Dead, once-dancing flame,
gives rise to soft, white tendrils
that spiral upwards.

a waterdrop falls:
the stillness shatters into
nested ellipses.

O to stop time!

And sit upon this patch of green,
This charming scene:
‘Neath the night sky,
And the moon’s watchful eye.
In each other’s arms entwined.

For. Several. Eons.

‘Til Almost Forever has taken flight,
And clocks are once more set aright.

They will chance upon this patch of green
Our charming scene:
‘Neath the night sky,
And the moon’s watchful eye.
Your dust mingled with mine.