SPARK

The gathering of flesh and blood

I am wearing one of her blouses

that I am cautioned not to stain.

Warnings always come with crazy eyes

that retreat me to submission and silence

So this is my family, I think,

as my eyes scan the table

Plates are passed

and sighs of anticipation clink

with Chianti

I am a novice and so is she.

Suddenly I am engulfed with a gush of affection

as if someone whispered in her ear,

“this is the part where you say ‘I love you’,

get a little mushy, ham it up, it’s what mothers do”

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