Poems

As If for Life

A familiar long red table:
I was preparing a meal for hungry children,
chopping away at a bowlful of raw onions
that made my eyes water.
Would there be enough for everyone?

Standing in front of a sparsely attended class,
underprepared as usual, I decided
to ask them to do some in-class writing
but then immediately changed my mind:
I’d tell them about the children at the table.

I know, I know: to narrate any dream
risks being boring or obscure or both.
Nevertheless I went ahead and told them
about the pungent onions, the red table,
the waiting children. Write about that.
...