And when they sat down in the morning to bowls of cold cereal, each in turn would notice the blades of a ceiling fan spinning at the bottom of their spoons, small enough to swallow, yet no one ever mentioned it, neither looking up nor into each other's eyes for fear of feeding the hunger that held them there. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EMILY SPARKS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN COMING DOWN TO THE DESERT AT LORDBURG, N.M. by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE LOON ON FORRESTER'S POND by HAYDEN CARRUTH MY HAPPINESS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |