Prayer
by Lauren K. Carlson
Heaven please be a grand table.
Scent of pot roast means set yourself down.
Heaven please meet my appetites, the deepest
kinds, peace thirst and justice hunger.
And the glasses toasting like windchimes
rising and falling with all the eater’s
gusts of laughter, gale force laments
breezy pleasure, steadfast anger.
Heaven let me get up stuffed. And still
served dessert. Cheeze Kurls and Better-Made
BBQ Chips and dip during the game.
Heaven, Vernors and RC, leftover roast beef
sandwiches buttered and mayonnaised.
Heaven, extra salt. Until I can’t chew
another bite. Hands that won’t clean till morning.
Dishes stacked, heaven, in the sink overnight.
Lauren K. Carlson lives in northern lower Michigan and is the author of the chapbook Animals I Have Killed. A graduate of the Warren Wilson Program for Writers, you can find more of her work in Fatal Flaw Literary Magazine, Amethyst Review, Pirene's Fountain, and Pleiades: Literature in Context (among others). For more see www.laurenkcarlson.com.
