“Eat it!” my father or mother would say
“You can’t leave the table until you do!”
So there I would sit, staring with hate,
At rice that tasted like glue.
“Eat it!” my father or mother would say,
As I stared at the wild rabbit stew
They could call it “Hasenpfeffer” all that they want,
But under the nameplate I knew.
“Eat it!” my mother or father would say
As the slimy boiled cabbage filled my plate.
I’d think about fainting or at least throwing up,
WHATEVER to escape my dire fate.
“One bite won’t kill you!” my mother would say,
As I stared at the brains on my dish.
Thinking it really would serve them both right
If I keeled over dead that same night.
Thinking back, I can’t help but wonder -
How many hours did I spend
Sitting alone at the table
Wishing that dinner would end.
–Sandra Lee Smith
January 16, 2009