Not the ode, but the torch song beckons
as Mr. Potatohead foxtrots across my
thinning pate.
The toddler scaling my back
pulls the "hatphones" from my head
and in an instant, my red-sequined gown,
mote-filled shaft of hot spotlight,
evaporate
in the fight over crayons.

© Copyright 1997 by Marguerite Maria Rivas. Published in Welcome Home. All rights reserved. For reprint permissions contact Marguerite Maria Rivas, Sepoy@nearbycafe.com.