Uncle Roy Came
- Michael Pu
in with goulash all over his face
and could’ve said the cowboys scored a touchdown.
Grandma serves the chili with the spoons in,
she knows it tastes like coin
the smell on his fingers
reminding her of the forged wood that cooked the meat
she never found.
Roy ran in and told us Sam was dead. Sam dies
every Sunday. The cowboys lost
and there was goulash leftover.
Sam always said he had
the best goulash coming and he’d
come back from the grocery strapping sacks but
he never made anything.
There are mornings I remember the warmth of sunlight on water from my past, but the cold brings its own kind of comfort abruptly.
All eyes are on the fireworks over the water, while canons beckon in the city behind them.
Behind them, the national locals.
Michael Pu is an engineer outside of Rochester, New York where he writes when he can find the time. He doesn't like to stay in one place for too long.