Birthday 

You’re 40 getting fatter 

getting fatter doesn’t matter 

your disasters are personal forgettable 

you say things like in the scheme of things 

dreaming the scheme into scenes 

the once-city a landfill ringed with cranes 

no right-turn lanes only flames 

that’s someone’s cane someone’s name 

a byline this is a headline someone’s doing the work 

but it isn’t you someone’s fighting 

in the other room this child 

has thrown peanut butter into that child’s hair 

the balloons are in the air 

we’re all aware who the good moms are 

the good citizens we’ve known  

as long as we can remember we remember 

the disasters spaced just a little further apart  

no further apart move it 

this child in this chair that child in that chair 

the paper towel shredding the baby hair 

your tolerance for the big one is growing 

your age is showing 

is it as bad as ___ is the question you’re asking 

everyone’s mastered multitasking masking  

you want a prize 

you want to be the girl in F-A-T earrings you scrutinize 

heartbeat digestion waist-size  

what’s the best you can hope for 

your cousin 31 dead in bed 

the medical examiner said 

nothing wrong nothing a cause nothing an effect no defect 

the magazines keep saying it’s time for a new you 

haircut if you feel anything jump-cut 

to CNN MSNBC NYT you’re waiting on the platform  

with everyone else this child wants to perform  

a dance for that child  

an apology there’s also a song 

i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i lick your face  

how long is this sorry going to take  

this child licks that child’s face  

that child wants more peanut butter for eating not for wearing 

one of the good moms films the resolution  

when a song is still a solution 

tomorrow she’ll go public 

to your aging social republic
in the still shots you’ll look fatter  

in the children’s silent laughter  

the cake disappearing faster 
everyone will say you look so happy