Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Dear Yahweh

Dear Yahweh, can’t wait to be a burden on my kids.
Long long time, they’ve cumbered me
So, soon they'll deliver and carry
Bleach and clean and scrub-a-dub-dub.
And do it happily.

No Sun City for me. No old folks warehouse, please
No special strangers tossing me
like some smelly old sack of shit.
Each must take turns putting me up
in a sunny parlor, so’s I don’t have to climb
to the top of the stairs. A nice
glimmering walk-in bath with handles installed
A minor cost..... Yours, of course.

The purpose of children is insurance
A girded codpiece against the testicle-kicks of mean daddy time
A guarantee. Insurance.
Yeah, that’s what kid s are all about!
Bring them up in your own image, knowing that they
Owe you and oughtn't just farm you out

I’ve spent all the money on schooling and clothing.
Attended the ceremonies and soccer practices,
Cheered for you religiously at your games.
Knowing that, once you’re earning, you’ll be gone.
Only recreatable in photographic shrines,
Discount baby-sitting, birthday parties,
Christmas present competition and good Thanksgiving wine!

It's been a blessing.
Now Lordy Lord Yahweh, dude.
I’m gonna be a burden on my children
Yes. And on my children's children too.

—Ivor Irwin