Poetry Friday: The Collected Works of Susan Ramsey
Those of you who know me know that of the picky eaters of the world, I’m right up there. There will be no melding of fruit and pastries in my desserts. No green beans or disgusting creamed corn in my meals. And obviously it takes one to know one, as today’s poem by my mother o’ mine attests.
To a Picky Eater at Love’s Table
This isn’t the love you sent back to the kitchen,
the one you now remember as seasoned exactly
to your taste, which you now admit you returned
because you weren’t that hungry and because
you thought the kitchen would be open all night.
And now this is set before you. Ominous shapes
in — is it puttanesca? Hunan? — sauce
which stings the tip of your tongue. The smell which rises
repels, attracts — and is this pottery crude
or priceless art you’re not qualified to judge?
You miss the pretty plate, that sweet, mild meal
which never burned your lips. I’m not saying make do.
I’m saying it’s a long time between meals out here,
and gourmets are pressing their noses to the window
for a whiff of what is cooling on your plate.
Poetry Northwest, Spring 2002
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About Betsy Bird
Betsy Bird is currently the Collection Development Manager of the Evanston Public Library system and a former Materials Specialist for New York Public Library. She has served on Newbery, written for Horn Book, and has done other lovely little things that she'd love to tell you about but that she's sure you'd find more interesting to hear of in person. Her opinions are her own and do not reflect those of EPL, SLJ, or any of the other acronyms you might be able to name. Follow her on Twitter: @fuseeight.
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