For the Smushed Gummy Bear in the Rug Fringe
He didn't mean it, first off.
Winter has a way of turning
that kid into an octopus, all feet.
Remember when all he could
do was wattle? Or when he would
strum the jug of milk
when I played guitar?
Or startle me by poking me in the butt
when I was cleaning the tub?
All the flap of his arms
pretending to be a rooster?
Jam out to the melody of the alarm
on my phone at 8 am?
When he did this to you
he wasn't thinking the worst,
that you tasted like guacamole
left out, brown and watery.
You know he loves you.
You know how easily I bruise,
the purple torch spreading
like a campfire turned forest fire,
the limp sorrys the day after,
fringe still mashed in your flat
ear, your gummy heart broken.
the most beautiful love poem... i laughed and sighed and a smile of the biggest proportions... thank you... glad i came by... curtain call
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