Two Authors In My Family
I push random thoughts around my plate.
Two slide off
I glance up.
Who saw?
No one is paying attention.
So I scoop them back up.
Eat them with honey mustard dressing.
What were they? My aunt asks.
She is the only other author in the family.
Jerkiness and Fear, I tell her.
Good thing you ate them, she said.
I just devoured anger and rage, myself.
I laughed, for she just ate two of my favorite words.
Too bad we did not exchange them.
An entire phrase is poured out of the milk container.
No milk today? According to "no milk today," this is correct.
How is your food? My aunt asks,
Knowing me well.
I shrug, watching Be and Quiet prance onto her hand,
pinching her softly.
She yelps. I look at her and smile.
Your imagination is getting carried away, she says.
We smile.
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