ser devorada

Poetry by Jo

ser devorada 

What I want for my birthday

is a strawberry cake.

Perfect in its roundness,

clean of edge,

perched on a glass platter.

Rich with icing 

oversweet, 

no candles.

I will chew it, and I will know

in the chewing

how detrimental the cake

must be 

to my health --

I will be a caloric deviant,

I will relish

in my iniquity

To chew. 

To smear the "p p y" right off 

the top of the 

last slice.

     (no regard)

To lick the icing

from the plate --

greedy-greasy film on my chin,

To eat so much 

strawberry cake

that I choke.

     Crumbs sticking to 

     the inside of my throat.

What I want for my birthday is

What I want for my birthday was 

What I want for my birthday will be:

to be devoured.