He Had It Comin’

Father was gone,

And nobody knew

Where he’d gone to.

But Mother bravely carried on

By providing us gourmet dishes to eat,

Which she prepared from weeds that grew 

Between the street and the canal.

We would sit politely around a table set

For five, not six,

Munching quietly on roasted cattail sticks

Made from the stems and tubers, 

And “Please pass the briar tops,”

Someone might say, or,

“My, how these rose hips pair perfectly with

The forsythia today!”

But Father was gone,

And no one quite knew where he went to.

And Mother would very patiently explain

Which of the flowers were edible,

Which for their super- nutritive bits,

Which, for their simple delectability.

Then she would pause.

Her eyes seemed very far away,

And she would admonition us:

“Now you must remember to beware.

The flowers of the wild carrot plant

Are direly similar to those of the allergen irritant, giant hogweed,

And the deadly poisonous hemlock tree.

But Father was gone 

And no one quite knew

Where he went to.