(Something With No Ending)

I have a recipe for the perfect relationship:
the miserable reality that I make it so hard for everyone
to love me that when I die
all of my children and spouses will be terrified
of not making it in time to reconcile:
“What if she dies and we never said ‘I love you?’”
I like blueberry pies, peach pies, strawberry pies.

Aren’t mothers always supposed to say I love you?
and I love chocolate chip cookies,
chocolate crinkles, snicker doodles
and gingerbread all year round.

Everyone at arm’s length, is my motto.
Sometimes my arms aren’t long enough.
Oh, and cobblers. Peach cobbler,
apple cobbler, and blackberry cobbler.

Or they’re longer than what I want them to be,
But I can’t shrink them into my body
with my husband and children in my clutches.
Candies are delicious!
Butter toffee, caramel peanut bars, mint and chocolate bites!

So many when I die I won’t be so lonely.
My bedside will be as busy as the fairgrounds,
Speaking of which!
I love frying funnel cakes and battering oreos.

I love setting the oven to 325 degrees or 450.
And I have sweated over this heat for so long.
So that when I die and they rush to my side,
I can finally tell my secret,
when I’m so lonely that my nose bleeds
because my heart can sustain the pressure,
I bake sweet desserts and dream of the glowing awe in their eyes
as I gently place the plate in front of them.
and secretly, I set the table.
and secretly, I wait for the doorbell to ring.

But I always put the dishes away,
and the chimes are always still,
and the desserts always fill my trashcan.

.....