First, she chatters, makes raspberries,
and finally cries in her crib; I can hear it
through the walls, even without the monitor.
I stumble through the cold, change her
diaper, get her dressed, and heat a bottle
to feed her sitting in my lap, eyes closed.
The morning is all silence and warmth, then.
* * *
Maria Told Her To.
For the baby, she bakes organic chicken,
organic vegetables, homemade
fruit juice cut with distilled water.
She puts things – not necessarily toys –
in boxes, to be emptied, to be arranged,
to be returned and put away.
And when it’s outgrown, she ships it to friends to start again.
* * *
Both of those are Sevenlings, which are short, seven line poems. It's a fun little form.
Here are a couple attempts at funny poems:
Fortune Telling Machine
I found this fortune telling machine and asked it my fortune. It said I'm going to be fat and unhappy and probably die young. Then I asked it if I could be a kid again like in that movie, and it said I was fat and unhappy when I was young. So I set it on fire, but it was in the basement, so the whole house burned down. Now I'm fat and unhappy and cold. And I don't go into the basement anymore.
* * *
I smelled something rotting in the hallway of the girls’ dorm. There was nothing in there but teenage girls, all giggly and wearing not enough clothes. I thought it might be them, after sports, so I sniffed them casually, but with no success. They were talking to boys through the cameras on their computers. Their shoes and clothes were piled in their rooms, in the hall. I thought that was probably it, but it didn’t seem to be. Everything had glitter on it and rude words. I walked up and down the hall while they chattered and teased boys in other states, but I couldn’t find the smell. So I went back to my apartment. It was full of the death smell.
* * *
Here's a poem I wrote for Jillian for Valentine's Day:
Why Did I Marry You?
You are kind and you are wise.
You have a fierce character that guides your actions.
Your eyes are dark and haughty.
Your curly hair is a rich brown.
You are a wonderful mother to my daughter.
You teach me new things every day.
You give me hope for the future.
You are great in bed.
Your breasts are sex-personified.
You are an amazing cook.
You are clever and quick.
You are funny and smart.
You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.
You play violin beautifully.
You write – when you write – wonderfully.
You have a presence like a movie star. It captivates.
Your lips are sexy red cherries.
You make our apartment a home.
You’re a better driver than I am, but I’m a better cusser.
You like bad movies, sometimes. And you like good movies, sometimes.
You know how to sit in front of a fire properly.
You are strong, inside, but you are weak, also.
You put up with me.
You make me laugh.
You fit with me.
You are warm inside and out. & when you’re cold, you use a hair-dryer.
You wish on eyelashes.
You inspire me.
You are an amazing teacher.
You know how to play in the snow.
You make me feel like I’ve woken up.
You are my helpmeet.
You are beautiful and sexy.
You think of things I never would think of.
You bring me great joy.
You taught – are teaching – me how to be a good man. You make me feel like I am one.
You taught – are teaching – me how to be a good father. You make me feel like I am one.
You make me want to learn about and experience things I’ve never known before.
You teach me – every day – faith.
You show me who I am and who I can be.
You smile and it makes me forget time.
You have the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.
You sacrifice without thinking or complaining.
You give me confidence.
You make my life worthwhile.
You are creative like crazy.
You have great taste.
You taste great.
You are considerate in your actions.
You make me feel whole.
I married you because you are you and I love you.