some things break (serious art guys for real)
oh chicken
my chicken
i'm sorry
but sometimes
i can't fix it
sometimes i can
i can fix the flaps you tear out
of the elmo peekaboo book
scotch tape
done
i can fix the rice krispy treat
you want to stay square
no matter how many bites you've taken
mash it back together
done
and done
blow up the balloon again
clip the plastic cover back on the battery compartment
wipe up the chocolate milk
from where you spat like a hose with a thumb pressed over it
done
done
and done
but sometimes
there's nothing to be done
nothing at all to be done
sometimes things break
like crackers
and light bulbs
and ceramic casts of baby handprints
like cameras
like water glasses
and other people's eyeglasses
and when those things break
they stay broke
my love
you offer them up to me
in shaking sticky hands
your mouth stretches into a sad sad square
as you wail
fik it
fik it
fik it mommy
oh baby
i can't fix the apple
unless you want me
to reach down your throat
to retrieve the hunk you've already chewed
and swallowed
is that what you want
no
i didn't think so
oh honey
i can't fix this croissant
croissants flake apart
if they're good croissants
and i always get the good croissants
how do i explain to this child
seriously
sometimes you have to break eggs to make eggs
sometimes the act of eating a cookie destroys that cookie
you know what
not sometimes
all the time
that's what eating is
that's why you grew teeth
remember how good the cookie tasted when it was whole
well guess what
it still tastes exactly the fucking same now that it's not whole anymore
give it a shot
or don't
but either way
that bite is gone
the cookie is missing part of itself
there's something sad in this
profoundly sad
and i can't help wishing
he were a little older
before he discovered that every bite he's taken
is a bite he can no longer take
before he found out my secret shame
that mommy can't un-cut a waffle
(but i thought you could do anything mommy)
(this calls everything into question)
(do your kisses still heal my hurts)
(will you always always always be here mommy always)
(because now that i know about the waffle thing i'm just not so sure anymore)
i wish he were three or maybe fourteen
before he settled down on this plain old earth
and tried to learn how to be okay
living in all this rubble
my chicken
i'm sorry
but sometimes
i can't fix it
sometimes i can
i can fix the flaps you tear out
of the elmo peekaboo book
scotch tape
done
i can fix the rice krispy treat
you want to stay square
no matter how many bites you've taken
mash it back together
done
and done
blow up the balloon again
clip the plastic cover back on the battery compartment
wipe up the chocolate milk
from where you spat like a hose with a thumb pressed over it
done
done
and done
but sometimes
there's nothing to be done
nothing at all to be done
sometimes things break
like crackers
and light bulbs
and ceramic casts of baby handprints
like cameras
like water glasses
and other people's eyeglasses
and when those things break
they stay broke
my love
you offer them up to me
in shaking sticky hands
your mouth stretches into a sad sad square
as you wail
fik it
fik it
fik it mommy
oh baby
i can't fix the apple
unless you want me
to reach down your throat
to retrieve the hunk you've already chewed
and swallowed
is that what you want
no
i didn't think so
oh honey
i can't fix this croissant
croissants flake apart
if they're good croissants
and i always get the good croissants
how do i explain to this child
seriously
sometimes you have to break eggs to make eggs
sometimes the act of eating a cookie destroys that cookie
you know what
not sometimes
all the time
that's what eating is
that's why you grew teeth
remember how good the cookie tasted when it was whole
well guess what
it still tastes exactly the fucking same now that it's not whole anymore
give it a shot
or don't
but either way
that bite is gone
the cookie is missing part of itself
and it's staying that way forever
or until you take another bite
whichever
some things cannot be undone
some things cannot be undone
there's something sad in this
profoundly sad
and i can't help wishing
he were a little older
before he discovered that every bite he's taken
is a bite he can no longer take
before he found out my secret shame
that mommy can't un-cut a waffle
(but i thought you could do anything mommy)
(this calls everything into question)
(do your kisses still heal my hurts)
(will you always always always be here mommy always)
(because now that i know about the waffle thing i'm just not so sure anymore)
i wish he were three or maybe fourteen
before he settled down on this plain old earth
and tried to learn how to be okay
living in all this rubble