Yellow Tomatoes

 

I once thought I could know anything

 

The death knowledge of the Buddha

The clarifying call of Gabriel

Former lives and abetting suns

That enthrall worlds more able than mine

 

I too never doubted my time supply

To be the daughter of the dying father

Who buries without the blow of love regret

 

But my father is dying an excessive death

With a wounded body that aligns

Rare moments of life

To the faint efforts of his mind

 

And I do

 

I offer my happy baby’s dance

Ask about our mayor and the bad president

So together

We can wave our related heads with a laugh

 

I bring home the foods he likes to eat

Chocolate sugar-free

A bag of sweet yellow tomatoes

That falls when his good hand forgets to grab

 

And when he insists on phoning my mother

Makes a promise that he won’t speak drink

I dial

 

I do I dance

 

Far from the Buddha knowledge of the giving death

Deaf to the recurring chant of Gabriel

Books by my bed and worlds of grace

That I grasp

But lack the good hand with which to grab

 

A big thank you to Pea River Journal for publishing my poem “Yellow Tomatoes”!

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