Yesterday at the Lunch Table
Ed. note: I always insist that I categorically don’t print poetry, so forgive the inconsistency — this one had a certain something I couldn’t pass up. Happy Monday, everyone.
by Lisa Westbrook — Age 46 — Memphis, TN
Yesterday at the lunch table
Sarah announced she’s going back to school.
She’s going to certify
As a sommelier.
Three levels of training, she says
And I can pour wine at any restaurant in the country.
Ah, yes, wine, we murmured approvingly.
Everyone respects wine.
Kristin wants to own a shop
Full of unusual, special things.
Where young men and husbands
Can wander in without fear
And wander out with the perfect gift
Sure to make their sweetheart smile
And kiss them warm and full on the lips.
Jenny thinks about caring for dogs.
I’ll walk them, wash them, feed them,
Love them while their owner is away.
Comfort them through the separation.
She holds her arms out wide
To show the breadth of her sincerity.
And what about you, they turn to me and ask,
What do you really want to do?
As if the corporate jobs we have now are just stand-ins for our true calling.
I’m stumped, lost, smiling stupidly, nothing comes to mind.
No glib retort, no clever sidewiding.
Fact is: Twenty-two years have gone by and here I am.
Waiting for my life’s work to drop in
Fall on my head like torrential rain
Blind me with a white hot light
To thump my heart right out of my chest
To bend my knees to bloody scrapes
To equal a passion I once saw in a movie.
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