Friday, October 20, 2017

Still Life with Flowers

Adriaen van Utrecht, Vanitas Still Life with Flowers and Skull, 1642

Happy Birthday, Daddy!
You never gave me away in marriage.
Guess it’s because you wanted me to yourself.
Our little secret, right Daddy? After Momma
was asleep, you’d visit me. You and Momma
did things like pay the bills and cook—she’d make
the mashed potatoes while you barbecued.
But she never understood you,
did she Daddy? At least that’s what
you’d tell me. How nothin’ what she did
was right for you, but somehow, late at night,
I was right for you, wasn’t I Daddy?
You’d tell me how I was special.
Well, I knew that because I was sick so much
and home alone. Momma did good
works during the day and took classes
at night. Later she’d teach in the day.
And sleep while you drank your martinis
and typed long letters on your IBM Selectric.
But after your last drink, you’d come
see me, wouldn’t you, Daddy? me and
my stuffed animal friends. You’d settle
yourself by me in my white canopy bed and tell me
all the problems of the world, of how
no one understood you. No one but me,
right Daddy? Your parents never did
understand you. No one but me, right Daddy?
And every night while Momma slept, we’d visit,
wouldn’t we Daddy? Isn’t that why when
you were dying you grabbed my head
and thrust your tongue down my throat
when Momma wasn’t looking? I was a
married woman, with two children,
Daddy. Momma had devoted herself
to you night and day for years. Publicly,
you professed your love for her, didn’t you
Daddy? But at night, and the last night of life
before you went to sleep for good, you wanted
me, didn’t you Daddy? Like the old days.
Only this time, Daddy, I remembered. And this
time I washed my mouth out good.
This time, I said never again.