the trick with peas. a poem.

Sharon Dolphin for me

From my perch I could smell, my tummy’s delight
My fav’rite was frying, it’s mushrooms tonight!
Set the table with dishes, the command came so quick
I jumped off my perch, and started to pick

Hot dishes held gently, as steam yawned out wide
From mom’s brand new dishwasher, which was her great pride
Patricia came in, for glasses to get
From cupboards still sticky, with paint that’s just wet

I hope the paint dries, before the holiday comes
Was one of the worries, that bothered my mom
The ribbons with balls, were strung at great height
Sharon made the tree, with happy tinsel and light

With workman now gone, chair arrangements were new
For now, I’d be safe from their arms and his view
The morning had started, so typical all right
She hogged all the time, and we started a fight

I wished she would have, to miss the great season
Her treatment of me, beyond my whole reason
I sat in my chair, and looked over at
The tree was the sight, where Sharon had sat

The phone started ringing, and brought with it rage
Who would call now, in this day and age!?
Dinner plates land, and I see on my plate
There are peas with the mushrooms, and peas I do hate

His eyes were alert, and kept always on me
I’m stuck with this now, so on I will be
To eat those damn peas, for all them to see
I stabbed with my fork, and came up with three

The trick with the peas, is to suck them in fast
They fly back so quickly, your taste buds are passed
Before your tongue knows it, they’re into your throat
Quite soon I’ll be done, and then I can gloat

The phone kept on ringing, large black on the wall
All covered in tape, with numbers we call
For Sharon had marked, herself all around
Her place was assured, in love she was sound

Dad hit the table, and bellowed like thunder
To the phone he is raging, and also my mother
So pick up she did, and then quickly she’d set
The whole thing on the floor, walk off and forget

My father looked up, his face in surprise
My mother was different, her mouth and her eyes
I popped in a mushroom, but I could not chew
With tears my eyes followed, my dad who withdrew

To my mother now bent, on knees in full flight
Her crying so loud, her prayers were a fright
I look to my dad, so he came to me
Patricia then joins us, but we are not three

For Sharon has died, middle child of pure light
He couldn’t be strong, it shouldn’t be right
A dress she would get, just sewed and nice fitted
With her Raggedy Ann doll, in clothes that she knitted

Their gift was a blouse, all done with a brooch
The cameo to sit, so nice at my throat
She’ll get it now, my mom says to me
I give her my candy, in case she’s hungry

The hundreds that came, to comfort the few
Brought food and great flowers, then quickly withdrew
Christmas day came, and under the tree
Were gifts made by her, one even for me

She’d sewed me a dolphin, it stitches so neat
The belly of which, she did not complete
It sits up there now, on a shelf I have built
To showcase my glories, and display my guilt

— Sabine Fourneaux, CK

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