Friday, August 5, 2011


      susan ambrosino

You're safe in the slow graze of your days
Watching the potential fire of the night
Through the open door
Thinking about a short step outside into combative blissful
Wood piled high
Waiting for a match
You hesitating at the table
In your bright fluorescent kitchen.

It doesn't really matter how long it takes.
You just plod along a few inches each day
Drink some wine
Take your vitamins:
Bone builder and thyroid cofactors
Eat quinoa
Play with your grandbabies
Make sure they will grow up
Remembering who you are.
Make sure your children will want to
Visit your grave
Bring you flowers as you lay there unaware
For all time eternal.

You plan on living a long time.
You take care of your teeth
Your joints
Your lumbar spine
Your flexible open mind.
But most of all
You keep your husband healthy
He will always be there for you
He also has no one else
But you.

Sometimes you feel like a big round mass
of earthy Boule bread
Meant to be torn apart roughly
With the hands out in a field
Near a shovel and a mound of dirt.

And sometimes you feel like the dough of white bread
Able to be pulled in any direction
Shaped in any way.

(Green is the color of trees
Though for some it's the color of money)

Then you smooth your hair
Pull in your stomach
Pose yourself sideways
And become
A Focaccia

Oh! so delicioso!

In your imagination.

It's all just the imagination.

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