Page 34 - Contrast1997

Three

One, two, three cold lima
Beans. I did as I was told,
Taking my share of the slimy, soft vegetable
As it was passed, spooning onto the plate,
The bare minimum to pass approval
from the parental eye.

A family of four, stationed round the table,
Drenched in a circular glow of light
In the big blue kitchen, warm with cooking,
Atop a mountain of telephone books, I sit
Eye to eye with my sister whose laughter
Invades the room, more smiling
And boisterous at the sight of my own
Mournful gaze at three morsels of disgust.

Opening her mouth she offers a glimpse
Of the beans in their mushy, half eaten form,
Only to make her younger sibling cringe,
Drawing forth inevitable laughter.
Silently we shake, holding our sides,
Tears streaming down youthful round cheeks,
Choking on amusement.

"Leave the table"Mom hurls at her in disgust.
Pony tails astray, red with laughter and tears,
She stumbles from the scene to sulk,
An outcast in the cold living room.
Dad, not missing a beat, silently continues his meal.
A dictator with a mission, Mom points to my plate.
The lima beans are waiting, growing cold.

Jennifer Vick

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