The Last Supper
Your lack of forgiveness seeps intoevery molecule of food on this tablethis last supper, I deem as the last-How do I know? Because it took so longand so much work to get to this momentAnd I do not believe there is enough careand energy for two times
Words that are easy to say, stories easy to tellabout father daughter sister brother uncle motherI miss you mom, and you are here but I hadto bring you up- no one else was mentioning you-easy stories that can not causearguments, any awkward, painful momentsexcept one that comes from the other side of the tableas if continuing an argument from months beforethe end of a sentence already begun in my adolescenceabout how lousy I am at
everything.
that sentence that seems like a new sentencebut I recognize as a continuation of how I'd hurtyou and what was wrong with me and do theyhave a pill for that-and you said
and another thing-
So this perfunctory last supper was hadAnd everyone ate. I ate less than usualEach bite getting stuck in my throatlike when I was 8 and you caught me lying.I never lied. Except when I was afraid of youI didn't want you to know. It seemed worseAnd now I am too old for thisSo I change the subject
The prerogative of a woman.
A woman, not a girl.
End of supper. Dessert. The sweetnessof ice cream seems out of placebut it soothes the beast that wantsto flee. and when we go to our carsand drive into the night
I exhale.
Words that are easy to say, stories easy to tellabout father daughter sister brother uncle motherI miss you mom, and you are here but I hadto bring you up- no one else was mentioning you-easy stories that can not causearguments, any awkward, painful momentsexcept one that comes from the other side of the tableas if continuing an argument from months beforethe end of a sentence already begun in my adolescenceabout how lousy I am at
everything.
that sentence that seems like a new sentencebut I recognize as a continuation of how I'd hurtyou and what was wrong with me and do theyhave a pill for that-and you said
and another thing-
So this perfunctory last supper was hadAnd everyone ate. I ate less than usualEach bite getting stuck in my throatlike when I was 8 and you caught me lying.I never lied. Except when I was afraid of youI didn't want you to know. It seemed worseAnd now I am too old for thisSo I change the subject
The prerogative of a woman.
A woman, not a girl.
End of supper. Dessert. The sweetnessof ice cream seems out of placebut it soothes the beast that wantsto flee. and when we go to our carsand drive into the night
I exhale.
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