The Apple Peeler
Gram stood,
back slightly hunched,
brows furrowed
as though she were creating
a piece of art--
and I suppose she was,
as she deftly peeled away
the skin of the Honeycrisp apple,
not once taking anything away
from the white meat beneath;
I watched in utter amazement
as the peel grew longer and longer,
nearly translucent in the afternoon
light—this was my after-school snack,
one I looked forward to every day,
if for no other reason than to watch Gram
peel an entire apple without once
breaking the perfectly coiled strip.
When My Metabolism was Young
sun-tanned legs pumping,
flinging dirt and gravel
as the supper bell rang--
the best sound in the world,
and I would dig into my plate
with fork and knife and spoon,
meatloaf smothered in gravy,
potatoes smothered the same,
yeast rolls fresh from the oven,
green beans with bacon,
corn-on-the-cob dripping butter;
those were the days of eating
for the pure satisfaction
of a contented belly—full
and round and warm,
when calories vanished
into thin air
as I rode my bike up and down
grass-green hills,
made mud pies with my brother,
waded the creek,
and chased fireflies,
my face flushed with life.
Comfort Food
hot melted cheese
bubbling in pasta
eyes closed,
mouth parted,
sorrow soon forgotten
buried
in that first delectable
taste on the tongue
pint-size carton
fresh from the freezer,
creamy chocolate,
swirls of caramel,
tears melt away
as the spoon sinks
into icy bliss
yeasty smell
of golden bread
fresh from the oven,
yellow butter
on each slice,
gray clouds part
sunshine on fingers
Arvilla Fee teaches English and is the managing editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses, including Calliope, North of Oxford, Rat’s Ass Review, Mudlark, and many others. Her poetry books, The Human Side and This is Life, are available on Amazon. Arvilla loves writing, photography and traveling, and she never leaves home without a snack and water (just in case of an apocalypse—or traffic jam). For Arvilla, writing produces the greatest joy when it connects us to each other. To learn more about her work, you can visit her website: https://soulpoetry7.com/
Gram stood,
back slightly hunched,
brows furrowed
as though she were creating
a piece of art--
and I suppose she was,
as she deftly peeled away
the skin of the Honeycrisp apple,
not once taking anything away
from the white meat beneath;
I watched in utter amazement
as the peel grew longer and longer,
nearly translucent in the afternoon
light—this was my after-school snack,
one I looked forward to every day,
if for no other reason than to watch Gram
peel an entire apple without once
breaking the perfectly coiled strip.
When My Metabolism was Young
sun-tanned legs pumping,
flinging dirt and gravel
as the supper bell rang--
the best sound in the world,
and I would dig into my plate
with fork and knife and spoon,
meatloaf smothered in gravy,
potatoes smothered the same,
yeast rolls fresh from the oven,
green beans with bacon,
corn-on-the-cob dripping butter;
those were the days of eating
for the pure satisfaction
of a contented belly—full
and round and warm,
when calories vanished
into thin air
as I rode my bike up and down
grass-green hills,
made mud pies with my brother,
waded the creek,
and chased fireflies,
my face flushed with life.
Comfort Food
hot melted cheese
bubbling in pasta
eyes closed,
mouth parted,
sorrow soon forgotten
buried
in that first delectable
taste on the tongue
pint-size carton
fresh from the freezer,
creamy chocolate,
swirls of caramel,
tears melt away
as the spoon sinks
into icy bliss
yeasty smell
of golden bread
fresh from the oven,
yellow butter
on each slice,
gray clouds part
sunshine on fingers
Arvilla Fee teaches English and is the managing editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses, including Calliope, North of Oxford, Rat’s Ass Review, Mudlark, and many others. Her poetry books, The Human Side and This is Life, are available on Amazon. Arvilla loves writing, photography and traveling, and she never leaves home without a snack and water (just in case of an apocalypse—or traffic jam). For Arvilla, writing produces the greatest joy when it connects us to each other. To learn more about her work, you can visit her website: https://soulpoetry7.com/
