bonus poem!

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I wrote this one a couple of days before my “poem every day” effort began, so I can’t count it toward my April efforts. But here it is anyway.

Kitchen Song

the deep tones of Ruby’s voice were ripe plums bouncing down a staircase
yellow dishes floated up out of the sink, singing along
they knew her sultry tune, clattered their brittle rims
their voices silvery and sharp, they hurt the soles of my bare feet
Ruby Marie could have danced her way across Arkansas and clear down to San Antonio

the dishes only seemed to sing under her knobby soapslick fingers
cigarette haze filtered the orange light, wrapped us in its gossamer shawl
as Ruby saluted her reflection in the window with a jackalope grin
quipped that she could never wear a proper dress without looking cheap
and her mama always said any time you raise your head above
the crowd, somebody’s liable to heave a brick at it
the stiff crust of envy still clung to Ruby’s shoulders
as she inhaled the sweet fire of her old melody
spitting hard black notes that chipped the sink’s avocado porcelain

I pulled my scabby knees up to my chin, bare heels perched on the chair
thinking everything would depend upon the proper arrangement of the spoons
their loudmouth bowls silencing each other in their nest
because spoons are much more dangerous than knives, than fire
Ruby set more plums tumbling: Quizás, quizás, quizás…
the plates shimmied in the suds, did a mambo with the spoons
gray dishwater cloaking their silverhot song from Ruby’s searching hands

by Tria Wood

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Filed under NaPoWriMo, invented memory, poetry, writing

Tags: bonus poem, grandmother, invented memory, kitchen, poetry, singing, song, washing dishes