First Communion Poem by Adam Hoagland

A memory from childhood, both fond and bittersweet,
when eyes were big but stomach still was small;
Dinner out, a rib-eye steak, a rare and pricey treat,
one I now desired not to eat at all.
For though I’d been bedazzled by the menu’s glossy glyph;
juicy, spiced, and dressed with parsley sprig,
My appetite, once weighty, had seen fit to quickly lift,
and now my main course simply seemed too big.
My father, with the check in mind, spoke out with irate voice
that signaled he had no mind to repeat it;
And that he would not tolerate retort, debate, or choice;
“You wanted it,
I paid for it,
And now you’re gonna eat it.”

A dream-scene from much later, quite surreal yet absolute,
some half-remembered vision from within;
A slightly tarnished silver plate that bore a sectioned fruit,
A pome with “knowledge” carved into its skin.
The bill upon the table was emblazoned with a mark,
The signature an “X” of blood and water,
A stair went up, a stair went down, the stairdoors light and dark,
leading sheep to greener fields or lambs to slaughter.
The faceless bussers wiping up the tabletops nearby
swept crumbs of guilt, mortality, and fear,
But self-reliance, reason, independence, and some pride
were likewise in the leavings that they cleared.
If I lingered as I languished, licked the fork a time or two,
had second thoughts of debt incurred and faith unquestioned,
If I fiddled with my napkin as I thought my choices through,
chalk it up to pre-ascendant indigestion.
But just before I sent it back, a voice, whose booming tone
gave me pause to either question or entreat it,
Said the blessing, a bon appétit for me and me alone:
“You wanted it,
I paid for it,
And now you’re gonna eat it.”

(- ARH, finished 11/6/10)