Poem of the Month
Wearing those clothes from the old country,
unwashed, no make up,
a cousin I must humor.
Let me make you some chicken soup—
she takes over the kitchen
in one two three time. Chops on the board,
stirs leeks into a paste
of schmaltz and onions.
I tell her—you’ve brought back
a case of nerves, you must go.
I beseech you—take the train, call a car,
go back to that town in Europe,
a village so small it doesn’t exist.
She turns and says
What is it about you?
You don’t know how to enjoy a hearty meal?
You race against the clock that beats
with the sound of hooves on a track.
Always betting on the wrong horse,
Pain in a Pocket.