I am the fondant on this broken-glass cake
I make it smooth
And perfect
Bite into it, tear me open with your teeth and bleed

I bring you the partially-dismembered birds of love.
And the rat heads of affection
I play the kazoo outside your window at odd hours
Until you remember you are a pro

Professional, that is
And you shut the window and the glass breaks

Did you see the swirls of frosting?
Three sticks of butter
No, five
It took me three hours to bake this cake
For you, because you were having a bad day

The orange roses are wilted
and the post office
won’t return my phone calls

I sang extra loud in the car today
With the radio up
Until the speakers rattled and tore
What’s another word for
Not broken?