Ode to Tiffany

you were once that redhead

who chased me 'round the playground

with your grabby hands:

you said i was your husband

and our babies would soon be born

by the jungle gym.

i at age eight knew not how

my babies wound up in your belly,

nor did i care that you tore me away

from my foursquare game.

i embraced those pea stones

as you embraced God, your hands thinning

and your hair thinning,

the gap between your teeth filled

with Christ's sweet body

which was just too filling

for you. i waited to see your babies

but you have none.

i waited to see where your Bible

ended up falling

(it's right at home in Alabama).

i waited to see where your red hair

would finally fall out—

but now it is blonde

and clinging on for dear life.