KENT MACCARTER
Poetry—'Baby Shower'
      

Allowably, a new toy new to a new nation
            It’s a brewery
Gifted before tiny brown-green infantry
Deploy; Daddy’s flag
Tattooed all across their backs
Loyal down to spinal chords
Under chummy civvies. Gifted
Before sporty model aeroplanes flock up
Sporting also those oh-so Flagrant Daddies’
Flags – painted on the smartly bolted
Fuselages. Now, it’s on
Friends. Ambassadors
Rattle your engines. Germany, lo
That wide and gushing minder, sunk
For all those thirsty Namibians
A Windhoek well. Directions – tongue
A into groove B thus aquifer C may be
Freed up. We’ll call up the suits up
Copenhagen way
Princes. In a dry Port Vila cured wet
A memento from Never Never land in bottle green
Tusker, no, not the mannequin suds you’re thinking of
Coconut roasting and the malting process
Absolutely refusing to occupy the smelly tango
Scandinavians shell out big pence to score big
On Saturday morning. Lean Peruvians pour off slopes
Onto town, cupping thin their oxygen
Suckling out firm the wort of Cusquena’s teat
Hopped up high in the Andes
A new nation receives a range
Of big gifts and cannot cook up the slope
Allowably, a new toy new to a new nation
The first doodad is a brewery, and secondly
Another huge thing
A new nation gets is screwed