Family Restaurant
Underneath the spoon’s small lake of chowder she fears her face is still staring back, upside-down, like some girl in China, & depending on the angle, either outlandishly skinny or outlandishly fat. She shuts her eyes & quickly shoves it in. “Delicious, isn’t it?” her mother smiles from the other side of their round, round table.
In response to a word prompt at Read Write Poem (from which I used only the first word, “spoon”). Read the other responses here.
Dave Bonta
SourceLicence:CC BY-SA 4.0