You Outweigh Me
now, with steroids’ cravings
and no constraints on sweets and beers.
Your scale tops off at seventy-nine
kilograms and years.
And why not? There’s no holding back.
From cordial six to size sixteen
you’ve filled your plate and friends so full
each day is Halloween.
I called your cell from baggage claim.
You parked but let it keep on ringing.
A son would understand that Cheetos
The walnuts rest like tiny brains
in pieces buried in your purse.
Your Reader’s Digest says their flesh
stops Alzheimer’s and worse.
With all the deviled eggs devoured
you dig out turkey bones to strip.
Each sandwich leaves you searching for
some Miracle Whip.
In truth it’s only you who’s coping
with gain and loss and pending heartache.
You’re celebrating each last supper
through Death by Chocolate Cake.
You face with Epicurean peace
malignant growth inside your head.
With grace and taste you choose to pass
your final course by breaking bread.