December 26, 2007

• Short Post, New Poem

  White Rice

  This meant for us that the truck had come
  and there would be cheese, meat,
  and bread, filling stomachs lonely
  too long with the ache of hunger.

  The earthy smell of grain filled
  the house with the warm scent of comfort
  and the rattle of the old pot’s lid sang
  with the chimes of neighboring church bells.

  Salty margarine melted and spread
  over the rice like a child’s blanket,
  resting next to fried spam
  and canned creamed corn.

  Our bellies were satisfied
  and Mother smiled again
  as everyone yawned and stretched
  with the contentment of the very full.

  • 5:06 pm
  • 2 Comments