7

Fasting for Family

My sister and I, we outsourced our angst

to casseroles. Pies of black beans and broccoli, cheese,

chicken and rice smothered in cream-mush-

room soup; fried okra, cooked corn, and peas

on the side. Mama buttered us up,

with oatmeal for breakfast, but

even with raisins, it didn't taste right.

A little bit bitterer by her since absent mind.

I got real picky then, sensing she'd left,

so I made my own soup falsely noodled with stars

for after-school efforts to self-soothe self-esteem

battered by fifth grade friends and elementary school discipline:

even my sunday school teachers could wield Doubt, 

and Exasperation almost as well

as my mother.

I stopped altogether, that fresh year of college,

eating rather the sex, campus fame, and "fuck all!" 

back pocket flasks that smell sour like shame, 

old lima bean paste gone rotten.

Now how many years later I drink 

coffee, spoon slow cook steel oats, honey and milk,

organic and hand grown from a farmer nearby.

A fast February visit for our sister-friendship,

and for our supper we honor each other:

a communion of precious pomegranate, 

root veggies, and heart-blood red wine.