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and a father with a fishing pole | five starving children |
two sisters at home and a brother in rehab | little sister at the shore
glove to hold fish | hook in the mouth | desperate
& hungry | father never taught us how to gut fish ||
And so we eat the fish whole
And raw
Our children picking barbs from inside their cheeks
Copyright © 2014 b: william bearheart. This poem originally appeared in Tupelo Quarterly. Reprinted with the permission of Carrie Bearheart.
What happens when God sits down for dinner?
Do you set the table for two, three or four?
What happens if you only have a loaf of bread
and a one-pound block of butter,
do you ask him to perform a miracle?
Where else do mice scurry along the bones of a couch,
among coiled springs and dog food stash, where
a body is wrapped up in quilts because October
is a cold house, no hot water but a dog’s water dish
frozen in the dark living room where a body is wrapped
up in quilts,
no food except a couple cans of commod beef stew,
For 7 days and 7 nights, I’ve been shooting free throws
The doctor said I needed focus
There is no net because some guy tried hanging himself from it
But the moonlight betrayed him
In the courtyard where we sit, a dandelion grows
I see you’re uncomfortable. Ignore these