Ash Wednesday

We like sausage and maple syrup
so we had pancakes for supper 
yesterday, which was Shrove 

Tuesday. I didn't have 
a miniature plaster figure
of a baby to bury

in a pan of king cake, 
but I said why not, let's 
fry up some eggs too, 

though eggs (the kind that come 
a dozen to a tray) are almost 
like the new caviar. This 

is our life these days— 
there seems no other choice
but live it, until the invisible 

pendulum swings the other way. 
The famous poet who used to be 
a banker wrote, Teach us to care 

and not to care Teach us to sit 
still. Here too, an old man
drivels beyond repair. 

Lies and spite among 
the roses. Cruelties 
in the very sand.

How many times did we hear
the words gold and golden
on the radio?  

So we spread the butter
on the pancakes, spear
the little fingers 

of meat. The dust is upon us,
but we will lick the sweetness
until our tongues grow numb.