Daddy's on the back porch

playing with a blow torch

standing by the front door

Avon Ladies For the Poor

Meanwhile Mama smiles,

"Get your lover down the aisle

before he's gone"



Lisa says, "Don't cry;

I'll bring you flowers when you die

I'll go to school in only black

or maybe in a gunni sack

I'll get your friends to stand around

and dance upon buried ground

on our front lawn



But don't you worry;

I'm sure she's sorry

and doesn't mean that stuff about the aisle."



Ring around the rosy

a pocket full of posy

ashes, ashes, we all fall down.



The test came back on Tuesday last

right before our pseudo fast;

Lisa said "it's heaven sent--

you can't give ice cream up for lent

Mama said I wouldn't last forty days,

but maybe two



So I spent the day avoiding mother

reading Dr. Joyce Brothers,

reading Where the Wild Things Are

and some of Plath's Bell Jar

Reading Daddy's tax forms

to see if it would be born

on Christmas Day



And I'm not weeping;

I think I'm keeping

a baby who will soon be half my age.



Ring around the rosy

a pocket full of posy

ashes, ashes, we all fall down.



Quitting smoking is a must,

ashes ashes dust to dust

try to turn a new leaf,

giving up pork and beef

Lisa says she'll buy me bras

and maybe I should join a spa

or take Lamaze



It's funny how you never know

exactly when you're asked to grow,

exactly when you take the load

or head up on your own road

Exactly which the day will be--

maybe Ash Wednesday

or Mardi Gras.



So I will change,

'cause I have changed--

time to put these combat boots away.



Ring around the rosy

a pocket full of posy

ashes, ashes, we all fall down