Weary of sword fights and fisticuffs,
battle cries and cudgels, I suggest a party,
root out the tea set I bought my grandson
for Christmas, and help him set the table.
We gather badgers, rabbits, monkeys, bears,
chipmunks, a toothy alligator, plush creatures
from the gentler world of children’s stories
where animals can talk and handle
a fork and piece of cake. Accepting this shift
from action figures to cuddlies, my grandson
arranges the guests and pours imaginary
punch. In a moment of silence, Jacob and I
consider the scene and the narrative it requires.
Never at a loss, he begins with the birthday
song for Monkey, but then the story takes
another turn. Even here, as someone said
of fiction, only trouble is interesting.
Peter Rabbit will not sit next to Alligator,
so I intervene to move him and soothe
his fears. But I can’t keep up with the unfolding
drama. Freddy Teddy blows out the birthday
candles before Monkey can. Badger gloats
when he’s served a larger piece of cake
than Chrissy Chipmunk, who begins to cry.
When the fuzzy python sidles into the party,
pandemonium breaks loose. Only the promise
of another, larger cake with chocolate icing,
another pot of punch, and a mouse for the snake
bring pleases, thank-yous, apologies all around.
A kind of peace, temporary as any other.
–
Mary Makofske’s latest books are World Enough, and Time (Kelsay, 2017) and Traction (Ashland, 2011), winner of the Snyder Award. Her poems have appeared in many literary journals nationwide and internationally and in eighteen anthologies. In 2017 she received Atlanta Review’s Poetry Prize and the New Millennium Prize.