Saturday, January 18, 2014

About Lunch

Conversation about Lunch

I ask you what you want for lunch.
Your eyes widen and I see you
five years old in a sweet shop with sixpence
in your muddy little hands. Your wheelbarrow
outside the door holds a cupful of dirt
and four weeds.

Braised steak, you answer.

But in the mornings I write!
You turn on a resolution to do it yourself.

Hastily I submit an offer: leftover pork roast
reheated in gravy with peas but it’s too late.

A small prayer sent out goes unanswered
and no buttered shrimp, sherry trifle, or chicken pie
today or tomorrow will fill it.

The lips unpuckered move on.

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