|Detail from an art conversation (M.A. Reilly, 2007)|
The Green Bowls
- Sjohnna McCray
My lover bought me green bowls. I had none.
Green or otherwise. I served dessert on
saucers and never had more than one guest.
Later, he brought two irregular spoons.
Long, with a tiny scoop. He didn’t know
these were properly used to stir iced tea.
I didn’t mind. We sat on my futon
waving the wands, eating small bits of pie.
The pie seems to last much longer. When he
unwrapped two plates, the same shade as the bowls,
I knew I was in love but would have to
cook. We stood over the kitchen counter
as if taken by surprise. Centered in sheets
of newsprint lay not ordinary plates,
but a new shape entering our lives.
from: McCray, Sjohnna. Rapture: Poems. Minnesota: Graywolf Press.