Grandfather Clock

White meat or dark meat? Mashed potatoes
or stuffing? Foil-wrapped candies
snatched stealthily (a pirate’s booty)
from the square cut glass
bowl by the front door:

who wants a roll? gravy anyone?
sockless feet padding over the Brillo Pad

carpet runner while the din of adult chatter dances

into the dark hall like women

in red dresses

Bright tables with
bright face and candles,
bright, too, dripping

dripping d r i p p i n g
childhood down to its blackened wick—
Jesus, Charlie, put the damn camera down,
what is this, the zoo?

Between aunts, the bright orange cackles,
(I’m hungry. Me too.)
if laughter was painted
onto this table cloth

like a mural of years at dinner—
pass the salt, pass the breadbuttergravywine
—and inches
of paint,

bold stripes& d r i p s m i s t a k e s
dong dong dong dong




dong dong dong dong

of the clock

like the rings of a tree on the table


time passing

Come Lord Jesus, be our guest, bless this food that Thou hast given us, Amen.

and me,
quietly
painting my own little square:

a secret design i already
forget a color i cant quite recall.