Paint
peeling, wood splitting,
flies
swarming her trailer, sweltering heat
in
that clay and lime town—
but,
oh! the tart and bubbling rhubarb crisp,
the
spicy-sweet hot mustard,
the
savory scent
of
the best, the best, fried chicken
any
of us had ever eaten.
Poor—and
rich—
all
the difference
in
the crinkle-cut corner
of
her laugh-rippled eyes.
©
2016 Jennifer Wagner
For
dVerse Poetics
Oh I do love that scent, the chicken and that rhubarb crisp, maybe sometimes rich or poor but the love you pour in your cooking that makes the difference.
ReplyDeleteI would love to try that best fried chicken, yummy. And I really like how you described her, with laugh-rippled eyes.
ReplyDeleteThanks for joining us Jennifer and wishing you a happy week.
This took me back to summer barbeques at my Grandma Trini's house in Los Angeles. Esp loved:
ReplyDelete"in the crinkle-cut corner
of her laugh-rippled eyes."
This was a sweet and evocative piece - thanks, Mosk
Ah! Rhubarb - one of the great scents and taste of this world! Love this poem :)
ReplyDeletePerfect for this time of year.
ReplyDeleteWhat wonderful memories Jennifer. What would we do without grandmothers and their cooking. I'm wanting some rhubarb right now. I would love to grow it but I understand it really can take over the garden. So glad you joined us.
ReplyDelete"...the crinkle-cut corner
ReplyDeleteof her laugh-rippled eyes."
Perfect! Great poem.
So descriptive I could smell the food.
ReplyDeleteThe images leap off the page and the scents are vividly written.
ReplyDeleteA truly beautiful reminiscence expressed with such love and tenderness. That last stanza left a lump in my throat. Another evocative - very special - family centric piece (at which your gift for capturing that magic is simply wonderful).
ReplyDeletethe tart and bubbling rhubarb crisp,
ReplyDeletethe spicy-sweet hot mustard,
the savory scent
of the best, the best, fried chicken
Oooh this is just yum!! :D
I feel like I'm there! I can just see her smiling right now - great poem :)
ReplyDeleteI so love and agree with the last verse. Touched my heart, this.
ReplyDeleteLaugh-rippled eyes! This poem is rich in sound and scent, both. A pleasure to read!
ReplyDeleteThis perfectly represents how and why food and the memories of our loved ones go so closely hand-in-hand :-)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. Laugh rippled eyes...and it is true, everyone's grandmother makes the best fried chicken. I know mine made the best.
ReplyDeleteI love those smile lines around her eyes. She sounds well content.
ReplyDelete" in the crinkle-cut corner
ReplyDeleteof her laugh-rippled eyes"
Love this, but you had me at the rhubarb crisp!
yes, she might have been poor, but she was rich in flavor and character ~ your grandma sounds so happy & nurturing, what a lovely memory :)
ReplyDeleteI know I've read this before and loved it as I recognized it right away - must have been unable to post response for one reason or another at the time. I consider this a perfect poem - heart felt and it puts me right there.
ReplyDeleteLove this Jen--my grandmother was a small Russian woman with crinkly blue eyes and a kitchen of love--this made me think of her today!
ReplyDeleteWhat a delicious, vividly detailed, and sensitive poem!
ReplyDeleteoh dang. now I want some chicken. and to talk to my grandma, may she rest in peace ~
ReplyDelete