BIRTHDAY
Copyright © Jed Allen, 2001. All Rights Reserved.It's dawn
and I'm raking the yard and thinking
jesus I amfifty-fucking-six and still
won't say
what I need to say-when suddenly
BAP!
my parents dropfrom the trees
like puppets
draggingtheir dead toes
through my hair-while back
in the house the boypounds out boogie-woogie
on the parlor grand
and never hears the doorcreak
as God
slips in-Little Boy!
and hurling the rake
I scramble madly
for the house but my
old knees lock and christ!
I'm down-just as the kidroars into Honky Tonk Train
and over my head
the puppetsjig and judder
-Little Boy!-
and round us paleangels rake up
darkness into piles
to burn