By memory
Date: 10 April 2001
Heartache Cake
I would have sworn I began with all the same stuff,
could have prepared the recipe blindfolded
and yet something failed in the mixing,
or bailed in the baking
but this just doesn't taste the same,
and I don't know where the bitter came from.
I poke at it with something sharp
to test the done-ness
but feel the prick in the center of my chest
and wonder if I will ever feel
the courage to commit so much
to see the effort languish like this.
I can cover the product
with thick icing---
but it will never make sweet
this awful mess,
never make me feel less pain at failure.
You say it's just fine,
cut a big slice
and start to eat---
my signal to join you.
But I know each morsel
will stick in my throat,
and choke me
and wonder how it is that you do not see
that this is not the same delight
that made us marvel, and coo and sigh.
I stare at the plate,
the fork,
and what you have served for me,
and wonder which of us
is really crazy.
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