Break that wishbone;
Hear it crack
With full, after-dinner ears
Of a Sunday child still dressed
Like a baby doll
In a smaller version of daddy’s
Three-piece, pin-striped suit;
With hair greased back
On a rounded head
And a turkey-stained,
Paling face.
But the bone cracks
And another wish
Randomly is granted or denied
By that great Sunday Turkey god.
This is my journey
— Nate Long “Owl”
Poem: Written October 1992
Drawing: “Wishbone” November 2016