Matthew Guenette
Un-Buddha
The house sitter for instance fucks up
scooping the litter box, so when we get back
the toilet is clogged with a week’s worth
of unflushed flushable litter. My wife remains calm,
ready to give an honest effort while I plunge
and plunge in an apoplectic freak-out,
just talking to myself—“Seriously? Seriously?
A monkey would know better…,“ dropping bombs
left and right, assassinating
the poor, I-was-only-trying-to-help
house sitter’s character. Meanwhile, upstairs,
the kids can totally hear my act. I’m aware of this.
Even before the show is over, I know
this will be a way I’m remembered: dad
in the basement screaming at a toilet,
at a cat box, at mom’s fat scuzzy cat. Undignified
Dad. Unmindful. The un-Buddha throwing
one of his famous, short-lived,
comically outsized tantrums. When they’re grown
and out of the house and reminiscing,
they’ll recall this version of me.
They’ll laugh and send a joke tie
for Father’s Day, something patterned with cats.
Or so I hope. That’s the poem: my hoping.
--
Matthew Guenette is the author of two collections: American Busboy (U. of Akron Press, 2011) and Sudden Anthem (Dream Horse Press, 2008). He lives, works, uses the oxford comma, and loses sleep in Madison, WI.
scooping the litter box, so when we get back
the toilet is clogged with a week’s worth
of unflushed flushable litter. My wife remains calm,
ready to give an honest effort while I plunge
and plunge in an apoplectic freak-out,
just talking to myself—“Seriously? Seriously?
A monkey would know better…,“ dropping bombs
left and right, assassinating
the poor, I-was-only-trying-to-help
house sitter’s character. Meanwhile, upstairs,
the kids can totally hear my act. I’m aware of this.
Even before the show is over, I know
this will be a way I’m remembered: dad
in the basement screaming at a toilet,
at a cat box, at mom’s fat scuzzy cat. Undignified
Dad. Unmindful. The un-Buddha throwing
one of his famous, short-lived,
comically outsized tantrums. When they’re grown
and out of the house and reminiscing,
they’ll recall this version of me.
They’ll laugh and send a joke tie
for Father’s Day, something patterned with cats.
Or so I hope. That’s the poem: my hoping.
--
Matthew Guenette is the author of two collections: American Busboy (U. of Akron Press, 2011) and Sudden Anthem (Dream Horse Press, 2008). He lives, works, uses the oxford comma, and loses sleep in Madison, WI.