I know they meant well.
The wrapped extravagance
Sat on the table
(An unexploded bomb waiting to be tripped)
Begging for comment
Desiring attention,
The pink and blue bows
Cascade over the box
(Some would call it precursory smoke)
A silent reminder
Of obligatory hope
At such a happy time.
(My smile was forced, burned on with napalm)
A gift brought to us
In paroxysms of joy
The final hurdle crossed
Loins ungirded and fecund.
(They cannot see the inside, the desolation and
fear)
Here is the gift they
Longed so much to give,
Sitting between us
(Twinkle twinkle sparkling wrap, how I wonder where they’re
at)
Waiting on the table
Quietly ticking away the seconds
Before every paradigm
Of our collective happiness
Shatters the ether
Like a nuclear blast,
Detonated by the words
“She’s gone.”
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