Lentil stew, bulgur, kohlrabi –
I invite you over for a vegetarian feast.
We discuss the importance
of the American family. I breastfeed
my baby at dinner. You
smile – I breastfed all my babies!
My spouse arrives home
from work at last, and when
she walks in,
(her grey eyes, her hands
pressed warm against my sacrum
through hours of contractions. They
wouldn’t let her in the delivery room.)
your fingers twitch against
the earthenware bowl still mostly full.
She greets you, offers you fresh
brown bread. The baby snores
against my chest. Lamplight
curves across our family.
Your smile crisps. I’d like
to buy you an electric car,
drill down to your heart
with my fork.