for advanced poetry
“Family”
I learn to count with goldfish:
One-two-three on the counter in the
Valley of my parents. They
Swim in schools of orange cheese,
Between my teeth. Down my throat like
The whale and
“Pinnochio.”
My toes trace linoleum. Mom cooking and
Dad talking and Miranda
Screaming from the high chair in our
Small kitchen in our
Small house.
Earlier, we climbed the street and
Met the sun in orange and brown decay.
The engine idled where Pinewood crossed
Lorain.
It smelled like Halloween. And books and ink in the
Car. Stale Metro air and the inside of
Dad’s leather briefcase. Gum.
The drive felt reckless: 50 ft without a seatbelt.
But in the kitchen there’s garlic and
Tomatoes and three goldfish lined up on the counter.
Dad crouches down, one more, a family of
Four crackers as I learn to count before
Dinner.
I learn to count with goldfish:
One-two-three on the counter in the
Valley of my parents. They
Swim in schools of orange cheese,
Between my teeth. Down my throat like
The whale and
“Pinnochio.”
My toes trace linoleum. Mom cooking and
Dad talking and Miranda
Screaming from the high chair in our
Small kitchen in our
Small house.
Earlier, we climbed the street and
Met the sun in orange and brown decay.
The engine idled where Pinewood crossed
Lorain.
It smelled like Halloween. And books and ink in the
Car. Stale Metro air and the inside of
Dad’s leather briefcase. Gum.
The drive felt reckless: 50 ft without a seatbelt.
But in the kitchen there’s garlic and
Tomatoes and three goldfish lined up on the counter.
Dad crouches down, one more, a family of
Four crackers as I learn to count before
Dinner.