baby flavored ice cream

happy new year.
this is when i harness my pride
and dance backwards into my wildest dreams.
a bird in a dress, a mop on top.
In love with the house. the house bride.
scream scream baby flavored ice cream.
meow.
*betsy

Can Opener

I can sit at a window for hours
I can knit a sweater for a century, a real warm one
I can sneak through the house with a pan of hot cookies
I can churn a batch of butter and stack 100 pancakes on the porch swing before sunrise.
I can frost a three-layer apple cake with corners as sharp as stone.
I can set the table for 700 guests without a fork out of place
I can reach through a microwave and feel the inside of the pork roast
I can wear the dress and still have room for pie.
I can have a cocktail with three olives
I can line the wall with my skin, its made of flowers
I can list the week in meals in under 30 seconds
I can hit the mark every time with a fly swatter
I can order a Bloody Mary just after noon
I can pump the longing with my own vein in hand
I can open your heart with a can opener
I can teach you the alphabet with my skirt down
I can drive the family car into the dam and hop up over the fence
with scissors in my hand
I can run with a hot casserole

This is a marathon of epic portions
This is a congratulations feast of microwaveable meatballs
This is a parade of jerky and pies
A parade of remembrance:

Remembering a time when there was no instant potatoes
A time before outer-space, a time before compressed diner tables
When daddy wasn’t flying around the moon, aiming to shoot down all the martians
A time when daddy made us cornbread and braided your hair and kissed you and you slept like a bird
You never had to wake up to make sure he was still there, there was no outer space.
The food took as long as food is
The middle of the hearth was not radioactive. The sides still cold and gelatinous in the crock pot.
What if you were in the microwave? What if it missed you heart? Your arms and legs singed with your frozen heart hanging in the middle.

The gravity on earth is not really made for the robot pop corn now is it?
We should just stick to the corn, on the husk, on the stalk, in the sleeves of paper standing like slender blondes in rows weaving secrets.

dog love

my sister got a new dog.
this is important news