Skip to main content

Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
Home
Contents
Biographies
Submissions
Archives
Editors
Contact Us
Publications
Policies

Love Feast


 
To my daughter, sitting in her high chair,
I feed the food of everlasting life:
crumbling bread fresh from the oven,
kneaded this morning by my husband’s hands,
cheese wrapped in red wax that I unpeel,
break into chunks and place in her fist.
Her mouth opens and shuts,
her tiny teeth tear peaches,
locally grown and picked this week.
 
At farmer’s market, sun blasting my neck,
I turned them over in my hands, running
my fingers over soft hairs,
lifted them to my nose, smelled
their holiness.  Then I split them open,
discarded the pit, slipped their skin.
 
Now I place them on my daughter’s tongue,
sliver after sliver of pink flesh
until she lifts a hand.
Just one more bite, I say, 
One more little bite for mama. 
She sits in her plastic high chair,
crumbs beading her cheeks, lips sealed.
 
                        -Kimberly Long Cockroft