Sunday Dinner

Good Intentions

There was so much horseradish
in the cocktail sauce that
we couldn’t eat the crab…
my favorite.

Stray ashes from cigarettes
mingle with parsley and paprika
on crusty potatoes topped with cheese
and corn on the cob slathered in butter.

A spent matchstick hangs
on the old china platter
holding a brown crispy pork roast
bound up in white string.

The cake slips sideways
like Tommy’s toupee,
husband number seven,
as they pour themselves another drink.

My parents exchange looks
of disgust, then depart.
Such was Sunday dinner
at Grandma’s house.

This poem was written by Debra Simmons. She and I were paired randomly together for the Word and Image Project at the Hoffman Center for the Arts in Manzanita, Oregon. My painting is in response to her poem. She also wrote a poem in response to "Rusted III" that I will share tomorrow. This was a great experience and challenged both of us in many ways. The greatest reward was the newfound friendship we created in being paired together. As we met and discussed each other's work we found that we shared many past experiences, outlooks on life, and artistic styles. I don't believe in coincidence and am grateful that we were brought together. I look forward to future inspirations that will come my way.