In a Barrel
The Poconos was not the premiere honeymoon spot.
The delivery, not far from the rushing rainbow knot.
Not anywhere, near my entrance, when love calls.
I might have gushed out, in a barrel, over the falls.
Could I navigate the canal, the Erie? Where do I land?
Amidst the history of bible hacks and medicine - withstand,
as generations were preyed upon? But I was baptized
through the chute of my mother’s fruit. Was not capsized,
as I went down the proverbial waterfall…there was Mercy,
the name of the hospital. So, close to the suburbs, (gramercy!)
I was born, but did not dwell long in the Goo Goo Dolls space,
often would visit my grandparents, an army of relatives showcase.
I landed in the Hudson Valley, removed from Niagara Falls
at only one year old. Still, all the reverie of Buffalo calls
and I’ve answered many a vacation, funeral, wedding
invitation, thus the compass of my heart’s heading.
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