Yankee Rose

Yankee Rose

The painting is alone on

A paper wall, like a few scribbled lines.

“Yankee Rose.”

A family sits around the bonfire in the living room.

They are moths, determined,

eating canned vegetables, they swarm the scribbled lines.

The father has the earth in his belly.

The daughter, eyes like candles,

strains like a river for a better view.

The son is dumb and sour,

A mother.

She wants the couch to match,

and is blind.

He and the son huddle together,

Like smoke stacks, they fume, but do not see.

Daughter, Father,

They sit content.

-James Moffitt