by Tara Andrews

I may or may not
know the answer to
the Jeopardy question
when I’m watching
the program with
my mother, who
likes to win, to be
right, to know facts.
Even if I may know
the answer, I will not
say the answer.
If I say the answer
I may ruin my mother’s
day. She looks forward
to the program from the
time she gets up. Sometimes
she stays awake all
night, waiting for
it to come on.
My biggest temptation
comes when I know
the answer to Final
Jeopardy. The answer
sticks in my throat
like a fishbone.
I think my mother
senses that I’m holding
back, that I know more
than I let on.
She’s smart that way.
Too smart to reveal
everything she knows.
At least to me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Tara Andrews is a poet and author of children’s books. Visit her at