Hunger Mountain - Vermont College Journal of the arts

His Eyes on the Sparrow

by Lauren Goodwin Slaughter


Our neighbor Kenny, two, fell
into the pool

just like that.


At the service

I was good and did not fuss
about the wool

too-tight tights
or patent leather shoes

that made me want
to eat.


White carnations

like cake flowers
all over the church.


I worried
about his teeth.

Mine, I kept
in a ballerina music box

with a ring and pictures
of my cat.


I wondered

what clothes
his mother put him in—

hoped for a yellow sleeper
feet unzipped

so he wouldn’t get too hot.


As the hymn began

I sing because I’m happy
I sing because I’m free

with a little noise
my own mom seized me.

To read more by Lauren Slaughter, click here and here.

To visit with Lauren Slaughter, click here.

For more poetry, click here.

{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }

jana September 6, 2010 at 10:07 pm

This is such a simple, powerful poem. The language evokes childhood somehow without relinquishing the awareness of adulthood.


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