The Innisfree Poetry Journal www.innisfreepoetry.org by Katherine Fallon
Letter to My Sister
I dreamt our parents gave a lecture we expected
to be on teeth: Mother with the blue-orange blow torch and a violent, spinning crucible; Father with the soft-tongued secret of the Cusp of Carabelli. But Mother didn’t speak and Dad wrote endless code on the green board. He said, Now then, doesn’t that make sense? And we agreed. No one’s ever liked to disappoint him. He clapped his hands and a cloud of white dust spread through the room. And that’s how it happens, my little ones, he said, pointing to his tidy characters, that’s how and why everything decays. Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication |