Sauce

Scattered on the table between us

Are crumpled condiments

Discarded ketchups and mustards

Casual leavings of a fatherly chat

My withered heart clasped in weary hands

Adorned with the same kind of nail beds

Same face, same intellect

Alien sentiments

Just a cozy chat

Where once again his teeth are bared

And the tendons of his neck leap at me

As if he is mere moments from

Sinking into my neck

Furious to dominate

I see the monster of my childhood

Older, yes, and gray

But still the same monster

Who wants to eat me up

Every bit

And look

The ketchup is right there

Reviews

[David O Whalen (O Haol..]

Michelle I'm not sure I understand exactly what this poem is really about. It seems to me to be about a past rocky relationship with your father that continues still. But besides that I want to say that this poem shows uncommon ability with words and descriptive phrases, to wit: Withered heart clasped in weary hands (subtle use of alliteration) and ditto "crumpled condiments." Also I liked the short pithy, yet meaningful 5th, 6th and 7th lines. Nice use of contrast. So, even if I didn't understand it I did admire the writing ability displayed.

[Shimmerbliss/CAF]

Your opening, with the discarded items, sets the stage so well for the realization that you come to in the end. I love this, the mundane scatterings on a table, the everyday details take me right there. "Casual leavings of a fatherly chat" is full of the memories you have. Sadly, some things don't change no matter how much we wish they could.

[Forest Green]

Seasoned anger, broad communication gaps, limits to fomenting nearly reached, nearly surpassed.

Over a meal no less, and thus, an appetite untamed.

Could hear the clatter of plates and dishes, the jingle of silverware and the clanging of unharmonic saucers. Powerful piece...well written..!