Butt-sparkles and all that, poem by Christine Timm

I have a wobbly shoe
Heel swung loose giving horsey rides up hill
In Bronx zoo
path leading to polar bear and camel
Another pack mammal
Here’s the picture to prove it.
He’s the one with the hump.

And plastic pooh in pocket
Winnie not stinky
But I have that too
diaper in backpack
too old to be new
soaked through
and paper of course
even green-minded of us
would have to admit pampers are a plus
after all they decompose by the time the kid’s twenty -
I can live with that.

And a bendy twig!
you should not be without.
This handy gadget when out and about
It’s a candy cane, trumpet, conductor’s baton,
A knight’s grey steed, a wizard’s wand
It can twirl, spin, flip and float
And it’s perfect for giving your brother a poke
It can stick on my head like a prickly hat
It’s a shooting star and I grab it
Can you do that?

And a family portrait
You see there’s me
with the triangley frock
death grip neck flare below knee

And a segment of sandwich grilled cheddar
Could be tasty – but . . .
It’s raisin bread lined with peanut butter
Rejected by sheep meadow duck
Who couldn’t believe I had the guts
To pass it off as fit for fowl

And this tough weave constructed
luxurious two ply
Wet-strength tested
community Kleenex!
soakin up wetness in single swift swish
packin more punch than a Petri dish

And crumpled note
the L is gigantic.
the o is too small.
the v is too twisted.
e not there at all.

an urgent memo
a wet nose nuzzle
from boys who snuggle
triangley frocks