it would be cornbread, frosted palest pink
for all the birthdays wrote my mother
concerning an idyllic place that she
called "Cornbread Corners".
that's where a cousin asked for everything chocolate
and got his wish and was sick for days after
all that fudgecake topped with choco-raspberry ripple.
I elaborate but how can I escape
in Cornbread Corners no one wakes too late
for breakfast, lunch and dinner
it's always cornbread.
no one ever complains
or only in pastels.
kings on stopovers couldn't eat better,
butter dripping down the royal chin.
but, my mother interposed
they'd have to be good kings
to get seconds.
mary angela douglas 1 october 2013
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