Hilary King

Death Tries a Meal Delivery Service

She likes the way the service makes
a cheerful assumption of her hunger,
that what she wants for dinner is
a proper meal with entrees and sauces
and not popcorn or pudding out of the cup.
She likes the Korean-style tacos
and maple-glazed pork chops that smell
like Thanksgiving at an elegant friend’s house.
She likes the package on her doorstep.
At first she even likes the little bottles of vinegar
and the individually wrapped pats of butter
But there are too many potatoes and soon
too many little bottles. Death is single.
She doesn’t need so many bottles of vinegar
and she hates potatoes. They remind her
of Ireland, the famine, the way it went down,
the way she let it go down. Death has regrets.
Too many regrets and too many individually wrapped
packets of butter. She cancels the meal delivery service,
but it haunts her for years and she thinks that’s fair.

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Hilary King lives in the San Francisco Bay Area of California with her husband, two children, one cat, one dog, and many masks. Her poems have appeared in Fourth River, Belletrist, PANK, Blue Fifth Review, Cortland Review, Mom Egg Review and other publications. She is the author of the book of poems, The Maid's Car.