''No Artillery at the Dinner Table!''

by Jon Wesick

THE look of anticipation
retreats from Junior's face.
Sis sticks out her tongue
squirts him in the eye with mustard gas.
He levels his howitzer.

''What did I tell you kids?''
Father's fork thrusts deep
across the kitchen table
smashes though lines of entrenched potatoes
in a blitz toward the roast.

In a desperate effort to buy time
Mom harasses
his supply lines with oven mitts.
Junior counterattacks
with a Jell-O mold
forming pincers with Sis's
VI Mechanized Infantry Corps.

Father's rapid advance grinds to a halt
but the wily survivor of
the Battle of the Saturday Carwash
is not to be undone. His forces
pivot to the left encircling the Jell-O.
Meanwhile his sappers
set off charges under the sauce boat
flooding the tablecloth with sawmill gravy
to create a diversion.

Father withdraws his fork.
The front stabilizes in an uneasy truce
by the time Mom sets out the pumpkin pie.

''It's so nice to have a family dinner.''

0 Like
Log in to rate
0 Dislike