The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far From the Tree

 

Toast on a Porcelain Plate (Credit: Pixabay)

My mother never eats toast on a plate,

she holds the bread in her long hands

and eats over the kitchen sink.

I think these are the moments she prefers, looking

out to the garden, morning sun dim and blue and made of all the forgiving in the world

easier here in morning’s two-part periphery.

I usually eat toast from a plate.

The butter cooling in the corners like little gold palms. I am glad for that luxury

but this morning I bring the toast to

my mouth, abandon porcelain