fall it must be
Huge, knit at rafters of the barn.
Sew snares squarely across the porch
Door, munch at moths captured over night,
And scurry up their ladders at any alien jostle.
Minuscule, swirl and cling to cabinets, gather
Gaily at garbage pail, linger over a banana,
Or peel off to zip straight up my nose if I dare
Breathe deeply while sweeping the walk.
Filthy, bat abuzz against my front window,
Nip at my ankles while I paint the garage door,
Ramble across wet paint, dragging wingprints
Until they are fixed, firm in the Barn Red.
Thanks, Pandora for all that you have done.
So, go easy on the mustard
I thought you wanted the freaking burger
Wasn't I only trying to make up for the lapse,
Can I help it if time is a vortex for me,
But why do the notes nor the calendar not work,
So what’s another birthday anyway, a wrinkle,
What can I do with your sandwich and my hot dog,
God, there is that celery.
Forgive me for I knew not it would darken so.
Please cast me not into purgatory for this limp
Twig found while searching for hunger’s salvation.
This spring mix, gone to sloshy mush
In plastic; bless me, oh, Lord, I have let
The graces of your good fields turn to
Sacramental wine in a box.
Bless, me father, I knew not the mustard
Would encrust, brown varnish at the edge
Of the jar, strange glue for
Holding a dog firmly to bun.
I surrender to your most merciful forgiveness
This wiener, shriveled small, wrinkled,
As from an indulgent bath. Slick, fatted
Calf of my eternal undoing.
Forgive me for this transgression.
I promise, forever, regular ablutions of this Frigidaire.