Pretending You Were Joseph

You could consider your seven fat losses.
You could ponder the long lean years left.

You could count the rest of your exiled life
not double-crossed but an Egyptian-style feast

to be ceremoniously eaten. Too soon past.
You could discover that in any parched season

siblings, nearly forgotten and foreign, migh knock
for the food of forgiveness. You could ask:

"In a famine of mercy must everyone fast?"

-The New Republic