I Want a Chair
When I was a kid at Christmas,
I’d sit at the foot of the table
on a piano bench with my sister.
I am the youngest—
my birth displaced my brother to
his very own chair
on the right side of the table.
I couldn’t wait until I had my own chair.
A chair meant dignity.
My brother would speak and
my parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents
would perk their ears to what he said.
I was on the bench,
so when I spoke,
my sister was my only audience.
I am older now.
I have two little cousins
who now sit on the bench.
I finally have a chair.
But when I speak,
I’m still not heard
or respected
like my brother was and is.
Maybe it’s because
I’m on a different side of the table?