The sugar bowl at the dinner table
Is pure hypocrisy.
There is no sweetness there
And there never will be.
Only cold faces
Stuck in their stone-faced masks of disapproval.
(more) The plates are stacked with variegation of foods
Yet they refuse to recognize any color other than one.
They sit there in negligence
Ready with their slurs.
But what they aren't ready for
Is the rainbow after the rainstorm.(less)
Rose, who was our mom, came to our house one time during Christmas. I remember a car outside pulling up and there being a change in the room and the way that everyone acted. I remember having to say hello and then a time later...when I was outside and(more) Rose asking me if Julie was prettier than she was and did I think Dad would think Julie was prettier than she was. She tugged at her costume and pulled it down and then led me out of the bathroom.
Rose asked me if we had all had a nice time at the Super Bowl. She was crying. I remember her taking the big glass jar off the counter and opening it and eating out of it with a spoon. She looked at me and said, "It's nothing like the sugar bowl."(less)