Sur la Table

When I was a child the table was a scary place.
I had stomach aches every day.
I was terrified of eating, pleasing my mother,
and having to finish my food.
Bloody cuts of meat scared me.
I hated the harshness of the overhead kitchen light.
I hid my food in bite-sized bits
spit into an unending supply of white paper napkins
stashed under my plate.
My mother would wear lipstick and sunglasses to breakfast.
scrambled eggs
were they too bright?
She wore sunglasses so we couldn't see
that she had crying
after a fight with my stepfather.
Often we were fed by the maid.
Sundays my Grandparents came over from Brighton Beach
Grandma brought honey-cake from the avenue
and potato knishes bagels whitefish and lox!
We stayed at the table all day.
My Stepfather was happy and he'd tell stories.
That was when I loved the table