Momma said “Rancorous Pudding”
would never be as sweet as “Lullaby”,
I wanted to disagree, but I suspected
she might be right.
Courtesy of my other halves,
this poem is for you.
Where I am, grey winds chill us,
yesterday, it rained fish and frogs.
I suspect one of you is hot,
and one of you is hungry.
I myself am cold and can’t eat anything
besides carrots and squash.
Sometimes, the gaps are obvious,
I don’t even need the knife,
but most times liquid color runs,
fills them, dries them tight.
I miss you like mascots miss their teams,
Like trees in winter miss their leaves,
Like an actress missing her cue,
Like the sky misses its blue.