Last Supper

 Before you report for deployment we grab

what little time we have left. By the door

we pile duffle bags full of combat gear

before we sit to eat cold crab left over

from yesterday’s gathering of friends

and family. Sans delay, we grip long legs

tight despite their sharp spines, tear limbs

apart at joints, scissor their pale insides.

Soft undersides open and we strip

meat in long lengths. Cavernous shoulders

release plump orange-white bundles. Tangled

fingers dig into mounds of buttered morsels.

Hurry drips sweet on our lips, hungry for one

more repast before this war pulls us apart.

 Caroline Le Blanc
Museum of the American Military Family


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s