Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Salmon Dinners (clocks)

And almost without

Salmon dinners were a favorite of mine,
Back when the family
Actually ate like a family;
Back when the dinner table
Held something more than bills.

Salmon seldom reaches my pallet these days.
I am too busy
Crying into my food,
Tainting the dinner with
My tears, poisoned by anger and hate.

“After all,” John said,
“It was only a matter of time.”
All the clocks tick differently in this hell house.

July 9, 2004

Comment On This Poem ---
Salmon Dinners (clocks)

316,264 Poems Read