This Is the Year

back again, and just in time
everyone turns to take a look
there's nothing you can do

a mob coming in from the kitchen
all howevermany candles shining
the whole family from hiding

his best girl and all the guys
the chef's hat and waitstaff
singing happy birthday badly

he blows the candles on the face
of a cake painted much like him
a sloppy portrait, deformed

the wisecrackers are coming
up with their best wise cracks
haranguers with their harangues

like having just wet his pants
in front of a grade nine class
when the headmaster takes a stab

so he grabs the serving knife
and lifts it high into the air
comes down hard on the cake

drags his fist back and forth
with the point of the wedge
across the layers, jagged

"whoever tries first is going
to get it," he calls at them
as the frosting goes flying

he swallows hard, hands now
empty but sweating, there's
no way out of it this time


2011