Middle Child

Big brother is impatient
for little sister’s decorations
to come down like a sugar high.

He doesn’t like her goth aesthetic
of black and orange. He’d rather
be of good cheer, all bright and flashy.

And here I sit between them at the kid’s
table, avoiding politics to keep the peace.
But I have the best food.


(The initial version of this poem was conceived with my pals at Charles House where they had this great idea but we didn’t have enough time to really get the poetics so spent today working out the details. Happy Thanksgiving!)

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About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
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2 Responses to Middle Child

  1. ivor20's avatar ivor20 says:

    Very relatable; I was the middle child, Bart …

    Liked by 1 person

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