Deb Radke Poet Sonnet

Expectations

We come to tables with hunger,
With knives to open our anger,
With forks to prick the conceit,
Expecting your kindness is laid.

We look to the offering made,
Will it prove to fill us complete;
We come to tables with hunger,
With knives to open our anger.

We take up the words on the plate,
We swallow and then contemplate
With forks to prick the conceit;
Will it prove to fill us complete.

We come to tables with hunger,
With knives to open our anger.

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Robert Pettit January 8, 2011 at 3:30 PM This bill of fare is enough to give me indigestion. Does anybody have any Alka-Seltzer? Good write.