When I was first born, swaddled in a blanket was I
with a white cotton diaper wrapped four corner
pinned with non-fancy pink or yellow ducks (Don’t pin the baby)
plastic pants singing to my cooing grandparents.
I was cloaked in the life of infantile adoration
In most neighborhoods, much like yours or yours
there is a coming of age where you must decide
the grade of sheets you wished to slumber upon
Prison grade? Military Grade? Dorm Grade? Or
Hand-me-down childhood covered in favorite cartoons?
Cloaked in hope and ambition!
When you lay your head upon your lover’s breast
Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump!
Dreaming awake together of chronological success
House-Car-Kids! House-Car-Kids! House-Car-Kids!
D-d-divorce! (Like a trumpet)
Grow Old! (Like a lighthouse horn)
Remarry (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)
The final shroud laid
body of dust beneath
Charon has been paid
A soul’s end masquerade
buried in frozen heath
Grieve the mother’s serenade
laying the cloak of life’s wreath.