When I was first born, swaddled in a blanket was I
a white cotton diaper wrapped four corner
pinned with non-fancy pink or yellow ducks (Don’t pin the baby)
pants singing to my cooing grandparents.
was cloaked in the life of infantile adoration
most neighborhoods, much like yours or yours
is a coming of age where you must decide
grade of sheets you wished to slumber upon
grade? Military Grade? Dorm Grade? Or
Hand-me-down childhood covered in favorite cartoons?
Cloaked in hope and ambition!
you lay your head upon your lover’s breast
awake together of chronological success
D-d-divorce! (Like a trumpet)
Grow Old! (Like a lighthouse horn)
(Like “Jane, his Wife” from the Jetsons)
Don’t Worry, Die Happy (Like Bobby McFerrin who is inspiring AF)
Cloaked in life’s chaotic awe inspiring wonder (Like you)
final shroud laid
of dust beneath
has been paid
soul’s end masquerade
in frozen heath
the mother’s serenade
laying the cloak of life’s wreath.