The Proposal
She accomplished very much, Finished college, buttoned up, The homely little boyfriend must Have enjoyed himself enough. She was shaking in the aisle, Seeking somehow courage to renew, Miles of soft drinks to her right, To her left a full oak pew, Below a grade of bright gray tile And cold oak trusses for a roof, Rows of shelves with ham and fruit The PA system crackling with a psalm All bowing at the altar of the food owner's servant, Waiting for their rations, no less hungry Though they've never seen a plow, Comparing bloody items from a sale on cow. But around the corner, Comes the scent of pure rotisserie, Making sacrament of vice, A moment's pleasure purchasing, The soul betrothed, six ninety nine, What more could be desired, The meat comes off the bone, The flesh consumed upon the throne, The ripest has a bruise, The stalk is frayed, The leaves droop.
Ross Eisen is The Pedestrian’s resident poet.