Saturday, April 22, 2006

Stuffed Peppers

I look forward to the skin
left in the garlic press.
I pull it out with a steak knife's tip
No other utensil is as justified and liberated.
I called in sick today
just to squeeze the cloves.
The house smells of clinging pans,
and steam
and love
and tomato
and irresponsibility.
Nolan is grateful and forgets
I am neurotic.
I wear a t-shirt that clings to my fat parts,
the sides that want to roll over my jeans.
He stares as I clear plates,
he does not miss
memories of me
when I was
his skinny mom.


Post a Comment

<< Home