Poem: “At Breakfast”

In the curve of the apple the child saw a 
of her life with them– a smooth cheek, 
      reflecting nothing
in its dull shine, the juice’s sour bite only within.
Words flew around her head each morning 
      like black birds
flapping from one carrion to the other.
The child couldn’t leave the dishes to soak.
She washed them as they grew soiled, 
      so no scrap
would lie neglected for long. Living with them
was like standing still
while two dressmakers picked over 
      every stitch
of what she wore, with bleeding fingers,
till the last scrap fell away into threads.
Should she move? Should she tear
the draperies away, or pick up a needle
and stab along with them, crying, “This is how
I want it mended, over here!”?
Meanwhile spoons scraped the bottoms 
      of bowls
and the water in the cups went down.
There wasn’t much time
before they all had to leave.

published in A Talent for Sadness (Turning Point Books, 2003), and in Hanging Loose

4 comments on “Poem: “At Breakfast”

  1. Mermade says:

    That is a gem of a poem, Jendi. I loved how you described the apple. It’s funny how you see the most random of objects differently – more thoughtfully -after reading poems like this. Please continue to post your work. It’s wonderful!

  2. I don’t intend to copy this web site, but I really just like the theme. May you comment on which theme you are using or is this custom designed?

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  4. wHursty says:

    Have you ever considered adding more videos to your blog to keep the visitors entertained?

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