Like the taste of blood on the tongue

       d. n. simmers
—After Chris Abani

Out for lunch and my grand daughter is
recording my sounds and copying
my “ mmmmmmmm” while eating a french fry.

She clutches her father. The protectorate of her soul.

She squirms and grabs his shirt
then snugs her head into his chest.

He is a little tired today.
Her back springs gave him a sore back
a few days ago.

He smiles the slow tired smile of a young father
and watches his daughter
launch into the meat and try a pickle.

The waitress flies by,
smiling and asking
if we need coffee or more water.

It is a quick visit and after the food, our goodbyes.

d. n. simmers,

is an on line special editor with Fine Lines. He is in current issues of Poetry Salzburg Review and The Common Ground Review. He is in six current anthologies and is on line in the Potomac, Wilderness House Literary Review and is in the current Red Savina Review, Nerve Cowboy. He was in the international anthology Van Gogh's Ear, Paris , France.

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