easter sunday

on an easter morning in the 50s

my sister and i received 

a large easter basket each

the crowning glory

was a huge chocolate bunny

hollow and waiting to be eaten

but i could not eat mine

first was the dreary inevitable

of an easter sunday high mass

with the chanting and the incense

the pageantry and the raiments

the liturgy and the sermon

my heart and soul grew faint

at the thought of being wedged

between my mother and her friends

on the pew in their easter finery

with their latest hairsprayed hairstyles

and reeking of pungent perfume

i carried the chocolate bunny

and hid it in the backseat of the car

under tissues and it cowered

all through mass as my father 

sat and smoked and read the paper

as the warm spring day heated up

after mass we were greeted

with an unwholesome mess

of melted bunny and tissue

fearful of my parents’ anger

i managed to spread the mess

and covered my hands and shirt

it could not be hidden

once we returned home but

i cannot recall what punishment

was meted out to the devilish boy

i suppose my father tried to clean

the seat but the stain remained

often during road trips long and short

my sister and i avoided the spot

as if it were lava on the seat

we’d sit on our separate sides

me on the left and she on the right

pressed against the door panels

a year later my father sold the car

the stain a shadow of itself 

the place where still we would not sit

perhaps another child again avoided

the melted chocolate bunny stain

that spread beneath mercury’s gaze

jeg.

4/21/19