Mary Lou Meyers, my classmate and favorite living poet, sent me this poem right on the heels of Bean Day, January 6th, so I had to post it! Thanx, Mary Lou
Mary Lou’s note: The bean soup my husband made lasted for days while I worked on Lesson Plans on Poetry.
It was Bean Day,
just to redeem myself,
not that I shouldnâ€™t attend to Poetry first,
since the words and initiative often leave me at the same time,
but I canâ€™t afford to delay,
my marriage is on the line.
Just for today, I have to put the sauerkraut
ahead of the sublime,
preparing all the vegetables,
chopping carrots to a fare-thee-well,
crying tears with onions that smell,
potatoes grating on my nerves,
combining them in the crock pot,
early enough to suit his fancy,
quickly enough so as not to clutter up my mind.
I wonâ€™t have to hear about Dave making bean soup again
for a long time.
In a flurry of activity, I wash and hang out clothes,
take the preliminary steps to undecorate the house,
the least enjoyable of my after Christmas tasks,
after the fanfare of getting there.
Just for today, Iâ€™ll be the Hausfrau
my mother would be proud of,
steady as you go but with an asterisk,
all the time Iâ€™m composing the lines
that will leap and hold onto the sublime
for this day and everyday for a long time,
reaching my little niche of expertise,
while the competition over reaches my bounds
of the perfect little wife, who grounded to a halt
once she got her insight, her footprint
outside the confines of the house,
being all she could possibly be, maybe even more.
(I hope I didn’t floor you by saying this Dave?)