Black Raspberry

by John Findura

When the moment of absolute change comes it should be large
and all-powerful – it should not have happened in my kitchen.

At just before 6 in the morning, standing inches from the cold
tiles leading to the refrigerator, I did not even have the ability

to drop the glass of water. I stood and watched as the half-gallon
of ice cream in the red package gracefully floated four feet above

the ground, suspended in front of the freezer. Black Raspberry,
I thought to myself. Whoever the creator of this message, he chose

Black Raspberry ice cream as the vessel. What is the appropriate
action to take? Do I run out of my front door or do I walk forward,

take container and place it back in the freezer? How do I explain
any of this? Messages from God and pranks of ghosts are frowned

upon in today’s circles. Perhaps chocolate or vanilla would be better
received and welcomed – there is more mainstream acceptance.

Yet in the end, however, I must stop asking why me? and just
accept the fact of the supernatural around my large appliances.

Now I sit in my living room at all hours of the night and wait for my
toaster to perhaps speak in tongues. I have found at least one truth:

The moment where everything changes is often followed by an empty
feeling in the stomach and a pain traveling up the hand to the fingertips.

John Findura holds an MFA from The New School. A finalist for the Colorado Prize in Poetry, a Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference contributor, and a guest blogger for The Best American Poetry, his poetry and criticism appear in journals such as Verse, Fugue, Fourteen Hills, Copper Nickel, Pleiades, H_NGM_N, Jacket, and Rain Taxi, among others. Born in Paterson, he lives in Northern New Jersey with his family.