Thursday, March 13, 2014

Tracy K. Smith

When your own sweet father died
You woke before first light
And ate half a plate of eggs and grits,
And drank a glass of milk.
After you’d left, I sat in your place
And finished the toast bits with jam
And the cold eggs, the thick bacon
Flanged in fat, savoring the taste.

- Tracy K. Smith, from Life on Mars, Graywolf Press

0 comments: