dinner time.
april 29 2019, new home for old poetry
busy movement of dinner time
frantic dashing to make a dish
insults were thrown in as spices
bitter as they roll into the pot
oven alarms blare to make us aware of how loud we are yelling
a spoon has fallen, but so has some tears
"it's ready" has been uttered
the blur of busy has stopped
we shift to the table
the table is set,
and I'm set for the argument sure to disrupt
silence seeps out of open mouths
chewing and calculating the next move
its dinner time after all
no one is satisfied until the dishes are done
3
