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Thorns (on an empty stomach)
by Alison McKenzieThe first thing to go is breakfast -
No honey to pour
On that crisp english muffin;
No yogurt to mix with
Berries that have already suffered
That fuzzy evidence of neglect.
And after they so carefully ripened,
Endured the heat of summer suns,
Hung on during the wind,
Did not drown in the rain,
Yielded to hands yanking them to market.
It is not ingratitude that initially grips me,
But it comes after the self-loathing of anger,
As if, through deprivation of nourishment
I will, somehow, balance the day.
10/07/2010 Posted on 10/07/2010
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 10/07/10 at 07:33 PM Alison, those last two lines resonate in the halls of memory, for who hasn't, in a spate of anger at some outside agency or being, turned the wrath of ages unto oneself? Few are immune and these lines say it all. |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 10/07/10 at 07:50 PM Sometimes small deprivations in the face of the injustices of the world, the sheer arrogance inherent in neglect, the depression of unconcern, sometimes though small deprivations are the only way we can fight back, against something that, perceived by others is so silly, and yet to us, is a sign of much larger crimes... |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 10/07/10 at 08:49 PM A wonderful bit of introspection. Awesome. |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 10/08/10 at 03:37 PM ...only wonderfully described, that's all. |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 11/08/10 at 02:52 AM I enjoyed the read Ali....CharMin |
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