Sunday, January 10, 2021

Sunday Brunch (2008) by Carolynn Kingyens

Justin called himself
a feminist,
and promised me
he’d do the laundry
and I’d drink the beer;
said he made a mean lasagna -
a recipe he'd learned
from his dying mother.

She had a partner
named Sonya,
and they were still
blissfully in love
after 25 years of raising
a fatherless boy
into a young man;
instilling in him compassion
for both sexes,
not just his own.

I was curious
when the invitation came
written on a napkin
from feminist-Justin,
asking me to join
the three of them
for Sunday brunch
in a sunroom
built off the kitchen,
an addition
a year before
his mother’s diagnosis.

They welcomed me
into their intimate tribe,
of books, lilacs,
earthy accents,
of A Prairie Home Companion
trailing off
in the background
amongst warm conversation
and acceptance.

I’d watch their gentle exchanges,
glances
between a mother
and her woman,
glances
between these women
to Justin and to me.

And the whole, sun-filled room
was palpable
in these moments
of laughter
and cancer,
of Far East travels
and trinkets –
in stories about coming home
and being home.



Carolynn Kingyens’ debut book of poetry, Before the Big Bang Makes a Sound (Kelsay Books), can be ordered through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Greenlight, Book Culture, and Berl’s Brooklyn Poetry Shop. In addition to poetry, Carolynn writes narrative essays, book reviews, micro/flash fiction, and short stories. Her latest flash fiction, "Sunglasses at Night," can be read here: https://acrossthemargin.com/sunglasses-at-night/. She resides in New York with her husband and two amazing daughters.

2 comments:

  1. This poem didn't go where I expected with that ominous opening and I'm so glad. What a lovely journey. Lovely poem.

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  2. Thanks, Joe, for reading my poem, and for your kind comment. I'd written this poem in 2008, almost 13 years ago. I wish you and yours a Happy New Year. Stay well.

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