At Feast End
We congregate about the table,,,
Our bellies bursting with holiday—it was pristinely set.
The turkey carcass now
discarded,,,
the sweet potatoes observed
disrobed
(their brown candied toppings stripped to expose solitary
daubs of orange-carroty-color not fit to keep),,,
the blotched plates cleared,,,
the caked forks confiscated,,,
sweaty goblets still bathed in mostly melted cubes:
the table
tidied.
Was God’s grace gone so soon?
God’s grace
was gone
so soon
by the scôp from diatribalArts.
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3 comments:
i loved this the first time i read it on your blog,,, and enjoyed it even more this second time around.....
The last two lines were really thought provoking. Thanks for taking part in our twelve days of poetry.
I can taste the turkey and sweet potates, love the last line -- grace and food are gone to fast.
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