A Dinner Alone
I dipped a Bible in hot French onion soup
till it browned-out my generation.
The verses softened into a soggy slog
as I held it dripping above the bowl
head bowed and hungry,
slurping like a brimstone preacher.
For dessert I spoke in tongues
bridled with blackberries, blueberries,
and bananas in Greek yogurt,
the granola bits telling me stories,
not all of them the same sweetness.
Jordan Tate 