Safety by Rae Norman




Safety


My dad always cut

my grapes into quarters.


He was afraid

I would choke.


I wish I could tell

him that the sweet


is sweet, that grapes

are good to eat.


Dad, I have tasted and

seen and swallowed


the coldest, crispest

grapes, nothing bad


will come from them

just because they’re from


her hand. Don’t worry, please.

You ask if I still


pray, if I go to church.

I drank communion


only yesterday,

red wine staining her


lips and mine.

Tell me again how


love is worship.

Dad, I listened


the first time.




Rae Norman writes every now and then. You can find her poetry in Wrongdoing Magazine, Perhappened, Writers Resist, the lickety-split, Falling Star Magazine, and Isacoustic, and find her on twitter at @raeswriting.