cutting grapes

August 13, 2015 Katie Anthony

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

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

That's one

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

Okay, baby?

But what if he doesn’t

What will you say

At his graveside?

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

And then

Be unable to live with

Forever

One Mississippi

Two Mississippi

Three Mississippi

That's two

After a thousand Mississippis

You have this cup

A small cup

Full of disarmed murder weapons

Glistening green marbles
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