Poem by Jake Bauer




                        In memoriam: February 2014-July 2015


Mark gulped breast milk straight from the carton. Nice party, 
Carolyn said to Franz who was relishing cone after
cone of strawberry soft serve. Flecks of powdered
milk speckled her lips. On the balcony, Tomas and
Tomaž used miniature forks to feed each other cheesecake. 
Bill sipped kefir through a straw. Afterward, a few guests tried
to hold Russell back as he continued to accost the piñata, 
splattering quark across the endless linoleum floor. Eventually
he was pacified by 2% yogurt. Time stopped. Then she laughed
and milk came out of Maya’s nose. Who wants to do shots, 
Death asked, lining up ounces of crème fraîche on the mantle. 
Still sucking his stick of butter, Philip said, I'd better not. 
Everyone else lifted a glass—Arriba, abajo, al centro, pa' dentro!— 
as the bell chimed again. Things are really getting wild now, 
Maxine said through a mouthful of curds, opening the door
to find James on the porch, his hands cupping cottage cheese. 
Behind him, earth was the color of condensed milk.