I tried to stay with some repetition and showing bits and pieces of a dysfunctional family. Mine, of course. : )
Stirring the Gravy
From a room familiar as a nursery rhyme
an image holds: my Mother as she calls
to me, “Come on now. . .get up. . .
come stir the gravy. . . .”
Stirring the gravy distracts me
from the elephant in the living room
who drinks off and on during hard nights.
Stirring soothes and swirls away
the unpredictable yard apes I’d monkeyed
around with the evening before.
Angels guide me to stir gravy
and make no grand judgments
of the zoo keeper who comes and goes.
Stirring the gravy means one more chance
to set yesterday right. After all, when you
live inside a zoo, birdy words and scuffles
and tussels happen.
The gravy is a muddy lake
inside an iron skillet, a place to swim, ski,
stir, be more than an ordinary girl
holding tight to a jon-boat
heading for shore.
All is dream-like when I stir the gravy.
It is then and there that dysfunction
and love get lost and found—
in a sister’s talk, a mother’s face,
a brother’s grin, a father’s walk.
Stirring the Gravy
From a room familiar as a nursery rhyme
an image holds: my Mother as she calls
to me, “Come on now. . .get up. . .
come stir the gravy. . . .”
Stirring the gravy distracts me
from the elephant in the living room
who drinks off and on during hard nights.
Stirring soothes and swirls away
the unpredictable yard apes I’d monkeyed
around with the evening before.
Angels guide me to stir gravy
and make no grand judgments
of the zoo keeper who comes and goes.
Stirring the gravy means one more chance
to set yesterday right. After all, when you
live inside a zoo, birdy words and scuffles
and tussels happen.
The gravy is a muddy lake
inside an iron skillet, a place to swim, ski,
stir, be more than an ordinary girl
holding tight to a jon-boat
heading for shore.
All is dream-like when I stir the gravy.
It is then and there that dysfunction
and love get lost and found—
in a sister’s talk, a mother’s face,
a brother’s grin, a father’s walk.