Every night we sat Down to our dinner At kitchen table. It was made very clear, Easy to digest: I should never speak With food in my mouth. So I would not speak, Nor would he or she, At supper. I ate With purpose beyond Nourishment. The goal To finish, to be Excused, to be gone. A hard ritual To chew, that diet Of silence, to be full And yet be starving.
Bruce Morton splits his time between Montana and Arizona. His poems have appeared in various magazines, most recently in Muddy River Poetry Review, Grey Sparrow Journal, Ibbetson Street, and Rat’s Ass Review. He was formerly dean at Montana State University Libraries.
The Pine Cone Review 