toast
you knew it was the first thing my
stepmom put into my hope-chest when I was 15
I told you the whole story of how
I had dreamed of and was sure I was getting
the four LP Jesus Christ Superstar album and how
when I saw the shape of the gift she handed me
I was secretly devastated
you knew how I feigned interest but could
not fake joy when the wrapping pulled away
revealing that Proctor Silex
punch-in-the-face of a toaster
sure it was shiny so shiny I could see my sour face
reflecting the wretched child that I still was
my stepmom said "it's for your hope-chest"
hoping to cheer me her smile so hopeful I
mustered a convincing "oh cool!" which
sealed the fate of all Christmas and birthday gifts
till I moved out grateful at 18
with most of what I needed
(I did get the Jesus Christ Super Star album
set when they told me my one-eyed hamster
Petey was dead I hated that I secretly
thought of getting another hamster perhaps
a sickly rescue as by this time I was pining for
Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road)
anyway despite knowing the sentimental
treasure you were messing with and despite
my insistence that you not try you just had to
show me that you could pull off your famous
grilled cheddar/mozzarella/brie & gorgonzola
sandwich in my tiny toaster
I know you thought it was on its way out with
only one element working on its left side and
plastic bread bag bits uglifying its outer shell
which only endeared it to me by the way
yes its shine was no more but that fucking
45-year-old toaster had my poor stepmom's
wise and loving heart in it!
in the end you valued your bravado more
than my pleading angst
that sandwich did work fabulously when
done in your four-slice extra-wide bright-red
monster of an appliance and I know I raved
about it raising a glass of that cheap merlot my
mistake it was our first date and I
wanted to encourage you
it was lovely that you wanted to treat me again
but why couldn't you have made your
four-cheese masterpiece in a frying pan
like most people do I have a brand new one
that's what it's for
I wouldn't even have minded if you had ruined
my second hand ironing board and my new iron
pulling off a Johnny Depp replay of the
grilled cheese scene from Benny and Joon
but no you insisted on your way and now
the symbol of my first step towards adulthood
is a gooey blackened acrid carcass and our
not-so-precious five-month relationship is toast
Author's note: "This poem was written in response to Rachmananoff’s Vocalise for a special collaborative arts project. The first poem I wrote in response to the tragic music was called 'lobotomy'. But then I just could not indulge the tragedy as I knew everyone would and I submitted 'toast' instead. It was the hit of the evening's performance for three nights in a row."
