Table Scraps

by Lisa Zaran

To be scolded
and sent
to eat under
the table, like a dog,
where four legs from
two sisters could kick
at you and drop pieces
of chewed up meat
down at you,
was better than
being sent to eat
in the bathroom
where you were forced
to sit on the floor,
facing the toilet, its lid
your dinner table.
We learned not to complain.

This poem was previously published in The Horsethief's Journal.

Copyright © Lisa Zaran 2004

Untitled

by Lisa Zaran

When I die I want to come back
as a duck because ducks can fly
faster than cheetahs can run,
my teacher said.

Okay son, I nod and let you believe.

I let you believe in the flight of your heart.

After my father died,
I had his body cremated.
All that remained was a package
of sand (not dust) the size of a child's shoe box.

I paid cash for him
and buried him in
the back of a coat closet.

All my friends at school have grandpa's
that can talk, my son moans, closing the door.

And when you die, he tells a neighbor, full
of childhood wisdom, you turn into a box!

Oh God. Come, let me hold you
while I still can. While your heart
still sits in a cage. Already you've
spent some time with flight and
your youth has gotten stained.

This poem was previously published in 2River View.

Copyright © Lisa Zaran 2004

There I Was

by Lisa Zaran

It was the kind of night
Where the stars come out
Swinging. Suddenly thousands,
Hundreds of thousands, each
One like a memory, sky full
Of old scars.

A group of three girls pass by,
Preoccupied with themselves,
With something within themselves,
With one another. Too impossible
To ignore, I watch them as they
Move off.

One bumps lightly into the other.
She laughs. Their histories are
Probably full of long, starless afternoons,

Like nothing I have ever seen.

This poem was previously published in Tryst.

Copyright © Lisa Zaran 2004

Hey Mr. Coltrane

by Lisa Zaran

i want to build
my house up
in your arms,
solid as an oak
tree. i want to
gather all your
kisses, like the
leaves.

Johnny, when
we kissed it was
like blowing hot
and cold all over
me. all into me.

i want to plant
my future at your
center, beneath
the bony sternum
like the bark.
i want to carve
my initials on
your heart:

L M Z

Johnny, when
we touched
it was like
nothing less
than hard.

i want to lay
my shadow down

at your feet.

and join your shade.
and join your shade.

Copyright © Lisa Zaran 2004