a strong tree so built 
the sharp lightning strikes her then
she cannot long stand 

i was born a pinch short of the recipe
eggs short of the mixture 
        collapsing when my mother said
        never go on—
                       and there’s the end of my song
sung a dozen ways in the theatre, the oven, 
cathedrals— i’m gone

darling, i’m gone.  friends.  i’m gone.

the sifter is broken, the lies have been told
not half the baker i led on to be
an egg short of the mixture, collapsed at the edges
         my mother said
                              never ever go on.
it looks like i’m crying, remember me not, babe i’m 
cups low on flour at that.
it’s quiet, the kitchen is closed, and its off to bed at last.

i was cupcakes and icing, when all your devising
entered my mind in a flash.  i was sprinkles and pills, 
brandishing sheets of bright tinfoil to keep all of the
old monsters back

                back from the doors of my heart, 
                i shut them forever, 
                no, i’m not cutting you slack.

so i’m gone.  my friends.   i’m gone.  

the sifter is broken, the lies have been told
not half the baker i led on to be
an egg short of the mixture, collapsed at the edges
        my mother said
                             never ever go on.
it looks like i’m crying, remember me not, babe i’m 
cups low on flour at that.
it’s quiet, the kitchen is closed, and its off to bed at last.