The Dinner Table by Sydney Brown

April 1, 2011 § 2 Comments

The Dinner Table

by Sydney Brown

“The truth is seldom welcome,
especially at dinner…”
—Margaret Atwood

Mother insisted
we were all there
on Sundays,
like the Kennedys,
like an iron lung,
like the hydrogen bomb.
Father came for the food:
plump little lamb chops,
Shit on a Shingle,
tuna casserole fortified
with crinkled Lay’s.
Sister, the beauty queen,
moved her meat
about the bone china
like a debutante—her eyes
like smooth stones,
like a surgeon’s knife.
Brother, a has-been at 15,
always had to put on a shirt,
like a tie,
like a hardhat,
like a diaper
for the electric chair.
And on Porterhouse night, I waited
for their fat and marrow,
like a good dog,
like a good girl,
like a good landmine.

Advertisements

Where Am I?

You are currently browsing entries tagged with sydney brown at Muck and Muse.