For your birthday
I've baked you
a cake of whole rabbit
and parsley. I didn't use
any yeast or flour but the cake
still rose because I left
all the bones in. There was little
preparation so don't feel bad
if it turns out you don't like
it. When I put the pan in the oven,
her fur caught fire. The flames set off
my smoke detector, but once I spread
her body over with mayonnaise
the hair singed dull and
everything got quiet. I caught
her in the courtyard
which means if you do end up
liking it I can try to catch
another one and we can cook it
together for our anniversary.
I used chocolate icing
but I'm sure you can see that
for yourself. I wanted to be with you
when you tried it, but I don't have
money for travel. None
of the innards were removed
so be careful when you cut
in. I remember one night
you said my bones moved in my skin
like a tent being raised
under water. I boiled her first so you'd
feel better about diseases. When it was
over, I clipped her toe nails and
blew dry her coat, which I realize,
now, didn't matter.
In my apartment, it smells
like wet wood and spilled
kerosene so I've opened a window. Your cake
should cool before I send it. If I can
get it to stay, I'll tie a blue
bow around its middle. If I can't
just know I really wanted to.
