April 22, 2024
Cornucopia, Poem by Sharon Gerald  
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The cornucopia of confusion

is the one thing I doubt we are

punished for in the end.

Children munching Apple Jacks

on God's living room carpet,

how were we to even guess

our own consequences,

that an unkind word

was so unkind after all,

or the daydream, looking

out the window toward

the Pixie Stick store

where nothing we ever

came back with was the right

choice in Grandmother's eyes,

spoiling us for wholesome peas

and sweet potatoes nobody

mentioned took effort to peel?

How were we to know any

of that innocent failure meant

we weren't in the right place

with our minds on the right goal?

Go ahead, children.

Climb the neighbor's hill

and slide down in your

new clothes through damp leaves.

Go ahead and eat the angel food cake

on the back porch after everyone

else has gone to sleep.

You couldn't have known better,

and someone tomorrow will laugh

at the smushed places where you

tried to hide your mistakes.

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