Saturday, January 25, 2014

Month of Poetry #24: Party Poem

Whole morning spent sluicing icing,
trying to form constants of colour
and surface, dividing M&Ms.
There were many oranges, too many
blues. Brain cells spent divining brown
icing from a rainbow of four inks when
I could have just used cocoa.

It doesn't matter what are the best
storage containers, all I've got is
a plate that cling wrap won't cling to.
Parkside: already heavy legs and eyelids
like the seafloor wants me for kelp.

In a whirl the tablecloth is abandoned.
Chips are shaken into ugly china bowls
wind lifts the red dust from BBQ shapes
I wish we had bought heavier snacks.
The whole world arrives as an army.

Keeping track of Ninja Turtles and who
detests who: This guy? THIS IS NOT
MY KINDA GUY! I really don't care,
try to keep all cards, unmadden
the birthday boy, proffer juice. Here in a box
is squeezed one thousand Californias.

Gonna kill you soon, temperate breeze
if you don't let my Redheads light.
We've waited five years for this candle
it's only half an hour till we can go home.

Sticky kisses, shouts to the Subaru:
See you tomorrow, have fun at your dad's
At home, I line up the presents on
your bedroom floor for your return.
The joy inside them coiled like springs.

Includes suggestions from:

@ReadingSheilas: what are the best storage containers? (Ms Harris' Book of Green Household Management)
@sulphura: there were many oranges
@matchtrick: California's gonna kill you soon (Iron and Wine, The Desert Babbler)
@spikelynch: form constants
@timsterne: This guy, this is not my kinda guy! (Buddy Rich, The Bus Tapes)
@ernmalleyscat: the seafloor wants me
@gingerandhoney: in a whirl

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