Thursday, July 4, 2013

Dear Dented Box of Cupcakes,


Dear Dented Box of Cupcakes,

All the toddlers weep at your disarray, preschoolers  
point out 
the ruin of your frostings, powdered sugar

like blue sand in your corners, and your devil’s food 
bundles, your Mini-Cooper carloads of lard 
are smeared, smashed,
among the fallen. 

Let this be the worst thing to happen today, 
a slip and an oops, 
some momentary grieving. Let this be 
the worst thing 

some of these witnesses will ever know. But of course 
that’s impossible. There shall be loss 
upon truckload of loss. Someone will die.
Someone will fall 

in love with somebody else. Might as well, 
I tell the children, (as I push them
aside) might as well try
for a smidge of icing.

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