Friday, April 15, 2016

A Month of Favorite Poetry, Day #15

A woman who wishes for cake and some quiet.  She definitely understands what it feels to be a mother.

I don't remember the last time I've sat in the house alone.  No exaggeration.  Really.  Maybe that's what I should ask for on my next birthday.


Alone in the House
by Michelle Bitting

On the eve of my forty-first birthday
I know what it is I want:
a cake from Ralph's-- Vanilla layers
and frosting-- the extra sugary kind
that leaves a residue on the back of your teeth.
Iced roses with We love you, Mom
in red cursive across its spackled face.
I want my husband to spread his arms
and lock me in their fleshy heat,
an avalanche of kisses from my boy and little girl.
Then I want them to leave
so I can sit for a while
with the lamps turned down, the furnace cranked--
alone in the house,
listening to the silence scrape its long,
dry sticks across my thoughts
until one by one they begin to flare
like candles, like revelers gone berserk--
a party mob waiting
just beyond the door
with torches and an inch to see
four solid walls burst into flames.

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