I wrote a poem about how our dinner usually goes these days. Enjoy.
Conducting a Meal
I am the tuner of the room I am
Magnanimous of patience
I am calm, cool, and collected until
I am not.
Stop, I say, don’t whine. Don’t throw your fork
On the floor don’t smear yogurt on your face.
Wait, I say, come back here. You’re not done eating
And the cat does not like to be pulled by her tail.
I pause.
Deep breath to fold in the yelling and I
Take out my imaginary conductor’s wand
Directing two small bodies back to their seats
Forks in hand
Not on the floor
Your food, I instruct, goes in your mouth.
I hover and wave my arms up and down and
Somewhat it helps
A momentary adagio until the next crescendo.
