cutting grapes
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| thanks for making lunch for the boys honey honey? what is this? what the fuck is this? |
Cutting grapes
It’s something moms blog about
A lot
More than they should
Probably
I mean
It’s been done
And yet
Here I am
Blogging
About cutting grapes
Wait
Let me start over
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| I'll ask you again what the shining fuck is on this plate? are you a sociopath? do you feed whole grapes to small animals? for fun? |
Cutting grapes
It’s more than just the cold, sweaty pebbles
Rolling off the board
Fuck
(pull it out)
(from under the fridge)
(blow on it)
Whatever
It’s fine
There’s something about how much time
Each grape needs
To pluck one green grape off its twiggy stem
Hold it in place with just
the tips of your fingers
(just your nails is even better)
And cut
Ugh, the knives are so dull
We should sharpen them
One Mississippi
Two Mississippi
Three Mississippi
It’s not so much time
I guess
I don’t know why
It feels
Awful
Cutting grapes
Like so many things
That aren’t even things
Until you have a kid
Cutting grapes
Is a conversation
Between exhaustion
And fear
That never ends
Fuuuuuuuuuuuck meeeeeeeee
I don't know if I have it in me
To cut grapes today
He’s two now
He can bite a fucking grape
What if I just say
In a sing-songy way
Chew
Chew
Chew
Okay, baby?
But what if he doesn’t
What will you say
At his graveside?
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I was so tired baby
I should’ve cut the grapes
I wish I could have seen you
Grow up
I wonder
If you would have looked
Like your father
or my father
Your crooked smile
I wish--
FINE
I WILL CUT
THE FUCKING
GRAPES
And while you stand
Cutting grapes
You can’t help but inhale
Trying to breathe a layer of peace
Over all the things
That you could totally
Fuck
Up
And then
Be unable to live with
Forever
One Mississippi
Two Mississippi
Three Mississippi
After a thousand Mississippis
You have this cup
A small cup
Full of disarmed murder weapons
Glistening green marbles
Sinister in their smoothness
Sinister in their smoothness
Cut in halves
Or quarters even
You can’t be too safe
How much time was that
Really
And how much time will it be
By the time he’s old enough
And his little brother too
That’s it I guess
Why it feels so awful
Cutting grapes
I resent how long it takes
To not kill my children
At lunchtime