Dinner Party for Sunday Scribblings

The table is set
with Mom’s
dinnerware

you remember
the ones with
the gray roses

tipped with a blush
of pink to match
the tablecloth

slowly you begin
to materialize
first Dad

sniffing the air
to make sure
we’re not having

any spicy foods
Grampy marches in
ordering everyone

around then Nonie
(you are still so beautiful)
sits down gracefully

you hand me a plate
piled high
with donuts

and I can smell
the nutmeg
Memere and Pepere

enter quietly
like clouds and sunshine
smile, Memere!

Uncle Bob, distinguished
and Uncle George
rumpled,

drink in hand
take their places
we eat what we always

ate: fluffy mashed potatoes,
fresh string beans,
and a beef roast

we talk and laugh
and reminisce
just after the lemon

meringue pie
you start to dissipate
like the steam

rising from the coffee
cups I clean up,
do the dishes

and later nibble
on one of those
plain donuts.