Caesar’s Rabbit (Mary McGowan)

The remade dress crackled,

As the sound of crumpled paper

Springing back in disapproval

 

To my mother’s disregard.

Always save – reuse, nothing new

To reproach us for our wastefulness.

 

A torn taffeta underskirt went in

Mother’s magician’s hat – tap tap –

Birthday party wrappings for her little rabbit.

 

The party aunts arrive.

They drool, their words dripping

Over murderous red lips,

 

Murky coffee and tobacco stained drivel,

Cooing lies over the dress

Like deceitful, fat pigeons.

 

“It is pretty,” mother said smiling, deflecting

Sisterly double-bladed assaults while smoothing

The taffeta skirt, retying the shoulder bows.

 

“I hate it!”stamped the birthday Brutus.

To Caesar, unarmored against surprise betrayal,

It was the unkindest cut of all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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