buttered toast with thorn apple jelly,
tea with milk; one teaspoon of honey
on a wooden tray once when I ran
a fever of 106.
Daddy bought me
double dip scoops of mint chocolate chip,
rainbow sprinkles and marshmallow sauce
on sundae dishes and sugar cones
until he died; I was thirteen.
Friends served me
birthday cakes, bon bons, stuffed dates,
griddle cakes dripping maple syrup,
butterflied lamb on the grill,
rinktum-dity in chafing dishes.
Love fed me
mixed green salads, vinegar and oil,
rigatoni, in puddled clam sauce,
whole- grained bread with low fat cream cheese,
courses of food married to wine.
I gorged myself
on ginger snaps, deviled eggs, pickled
herring, steamed lobster, drawn butter
sauce, quartered chicken, smoked salmon,
Bing! cherries in July,
And sugar cones every day of my life.
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Lucille is an RBR veteran, and one of our favorite writers on the planet. Her fiction and poetry have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, as well as in four poetry chapbooks, the most recent titled In the Tunnel. Her first picture book, Stuck in Bed, Fred, has been accepted for publication.
