My father spins and spins me
till, released, I stumble forward,
arms outstretched, clutching
a donkey’s tail. My friends
squeal and shout, over there,
over there! as I stagger blindly–
but not quite.
We have a secret, don’t we,
my father and I–
a thin slit of light
at the bottom of the blindfold
lets me find my way
and slap the tail on the donkey’s rump.
I’m only a little scared
when the lights go out
and my mother appears
with an iced pink cake,
candied flowers shivering
in the flame of seven candles,
one to grow on.
It takes a lot of breath
to blow out the candles.
It takes almost more
than I have. My mother
leans close. Make a wish,
she says. Would it be too much
to wish for a dog? My father
points the eye of the camera
right at me. I close my eyes
tight. Oh I want
to be on their team.
I want to wave a banner
and cheer for them,
this father and this mother–
not a real banner, made of cloth
and tied to a pole.
You knew that, didn’t you?
That the banner wasn’t real?
Wendy Mnookin’s new book, Dinner with Emerson, is being published by Tiger Bark Press in March 2016. Mnookin has taught poetry at Emerson College, Boston College, and Grub Street. She is now mostly retired to spend more time writing and enjoying her grandchildren. She lives with her husband in Newton, Massachusetts.
