Soup on a Saturday Night

a tribute to those sad old men who eat alone in restaurants. Don't you want someone to join them?

An old man sits in a booth,

alone in a crowded Jewish deli.

He spoons matzo ball soup past chapped lips.

(They crackle a little as he opens.)

Tracing the warm chicken broth

as it glides down his esophagus,

he shivers a little under the air conditioner;

goosebumps and white hairs rise

between the folds of his wrinkled limbs.

 

A Jewish mother is holding

a napkin at the next table over.

She carefully wipes noodles and tomato base

from the corners of her daughter’s mouth.

(They turn upward as if it tickles.)  

The ceramic bowl in front of her now empty,

the girl shifts uneasily in her seat.

The cherry red glimmer of the gumball machine

catches her eye. Silently, she calculates her odds

of getting grape. (They seem few and far between

among the rest of the brightly colored orbs.)

 

Rising to her feet, she notices the shriveled man,

his hunched shoulders and half-eaten matzo ball.

Her brow furrows slightly as she wonders

where his wife went and if she liked gumballs, too.

She takes the seat across from him,

flashing her gap-toothed grin.

Because no one should have to sit alone,

slurping lukewarm soup on a Saturday night.

Reviews

[gocubsgo25]

Hello Emily!

I saw this poem being reviewed by a number--well, small number--of other members, so I thought I'd give it a try.

Where do I begin? This piece was a sugar-sweet, magically flowing portrait of something I myself have sometimes wondered. Why do those old men sit alone all the time? Were they ever married, or loved? Or are they the outcasts from high school and college, never able to change that fact about them? Even then, after so many decades of life.

One thing I can say about the prose style of this poem is that it massaged my brain into truly picturing the scene as it progressed. The man, the girl, even the Jewish mother, who had very little characterization and description, burst alive in my mind. So did the meaning of the poem, the attempted answers to the questions I posed at the beginning of this review.

The ending was well done, expected, predictable, but nonetheless fitting. I'm sure other readers are glad to know that SOMEONE is keeping the old man company.

One SPaG error I found:

In the last stanza, luke-warm doesn't have to be hyphenated. It can be one word, lukewarm.

Best of luck,

gocubsgo25

[Sel Whiteley]

You have such an astonishingly brilliant narrative style. I love the resonant empathy and characterisation throughout this poem. The attention to detail is exquisite. The only thing I could possibly fault is the use of adverbs and that’s only because many of them are simply reiterating what you’ve already masterfully shown in your writing, although not perhaps as overtly.

[sarah]

that is a outstanding poem

[Lizy Coale]

aww! this is a cute poem (: was it inspired by passover by any chance?

i really liked the two () mirroring each other in the first two stanzas, it sort of makes a contrast between the ages and how the little girl seems so lively and the old man sort of old and unwanted.

'with' in the second stanza causes that whole line to seem a bit awkward though, it threw me off a little bit. but other than that it was a marvelous poem :) do you think you could read some of my stuff?