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.