For the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—though we love to try new dishes, your post doesn’t have to be a recipe. We’re pretty relaxed over here, and stories and photos are as welcome as menus and recipes. When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the button to include with your post. It ties us together visually. Then fill in the boxes of this linky tool to join the fun!
Food on Fridays with Ann
I’m reprinting this poem about potatoes in association with The Writing Life: Beginnings, Pt. 2, published Friday at Tweetspeak Poetry. I figure it fits with Food on Fridays because, you know, it’s about potatoes (except it’s not).
This poem did not make it into the undergraduate literary journal mentioned in my “Writing Life: Beginnings” story, but after I graduated, I submitted it to a local poetry contest where it was selected as one of twelve winners. Each winning poem was printed up on large placards and mounted inside the city buses to enrich the lives of its passengers. “Field Hands” was featured during the month of March in 1992. I’ve often wondered what the riders thought of it, or if they noticed it at all.
My father asks me why I’m so dirty.
I say it’s because I played in the field with Becky.
I won’t tell him I worked from two until suppertime
helping pick potatoes with the Hammons in their field.
I won’t tell him how warm and rich the earth was
when Mr. Hammons plowed through, leaving dry ripples
for us to dig our hands in to fish for potatoes.
Or how we picked up six-inch worms and threw them at each other,
while tossing potatoes into ratty bushel baskets.
I like going home with limp hair,
stringy from the summer wind,
and a film of dust on my arms and legs.
When my mom asks me to wash the dishes,
I’ll say I’m too tired.
© 1992 Ann Kroeker
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Photos by Ann Kroeker. “Pin” these images in a way that links back to this particular page, giving proper credit.
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