PARABLE - Lynn Crosbie Poems


Poems » lynn crosbie » parable


The first time I appreciated
the story of the prodigal son
and how -- to the chagrin
of the righteous brother who'd stayed
at home minding his manners
along with the company store --
the father laid on dinner
with cakes and wine galore
when the selfish oaf went broke
and came running home for a blessing,
instead of giving him a dressing-
down, and a swift kick,

was when, a father myself,
I tried my hand at baking
angels: thin, delicate
miracles -- performed without breaking
a single wing! Forty-six,
and then the last two fell
and shattered. It felt like hell.
In spite of the forty-six,
those two fell through my head
for half an afternoon.
And I thought: if all this over shortbread,
imagine over my son.