Middle age

desert of my life

there were things I never meant

to take root in spite

An education

The
children
scribble on
the bathroom walls,
and a nation tucks its guns into bed.

Forever give me sadness any day

To my right, “they have good coleslaw.”

From across the table, “it’s chopped instead of shredded, that’s why.”

A minute later to my left, “they have good coleslaw here.”

And farther down, “yes, it’s the best coleslaw in town.”

It continued like this awhile longer,

the buzz of hearing aids, the comfort of repetition

and appreciation of ordinary things.

I think of complicated things,

and I feel alone.

I think of coleslaw and am filled with a sadness 

that soon there may be one less friend at our table.

I look around the table and smile warmly

as I take mental snapshots of each face, 

faces alive with friendship and creased with memory.

Eyes grow watery with age. I think

it has to do with all the loss, the body must let go

forever. Give me sadness any day.

It fills me with love,

and I overflow.

Serve me up, piece by piece

serve me up, piece by piece
what good am I to myself

take my hand and write the words that will untether hearts and minds

take my feet and lead the refugees out of war, furthermore
take my arms, open them

take my shoulders and lift the young women above the oppression experienced by their mothers and grandmothers

take my head and place it on a lunch tray because it is of no use to me
as it has not commanded my hand, my feet, my arms, my shoulders
to do what needs to be done

serve me up, piece by piece


A prompt from imaginary garden with real toads