THE EFFORT - a poem about grandmothers and pie

THE EFFORT by Carrie Jones My grandmothers—all dead— Wander through my head in couplets Though I need to make a pie today, For dinner, and it just feels like so much effort, So much effort just to get me To this day, to this pie making. My nana was strong: gardener, hospital volunteer, Bridge player, terrible cook. You’d cut in her chicken pies And water would leak out. My avó never Had enough to make a pie. She was all about soup. Another, only believed in boiling and broiling. Only my nana worked, every day, all day. Poets write about […]