Divorced, Soup and Desert by Marte Stuart

September 22, 2022
Poet name: Marte Stuart Poem title: Divorced, Soup and Desert Poem: Divorced, Soup and Desert –by Marte Stuart Eyes streaming, my sister chops onions to hide tears. I can tell. She’s making soup. Something useful, she says. The garlic she crushed under a knife blade burns in the wee cracks of her dry fingertips–– a fiery discomfort. Focus on the sautéing, she says chasing butter around in the pan. She prefers the oldest vegetables, especially pitying those full-flavoured wilted ones, ignored at the back of the fridge. Just old, she says trimming. She peels another rubbery carrot, even salvaging its withered top to sprout in water. Still some life there, she says, placing it on a sunny sill. From scraps, she concocts a robust broth to fill bellies, and then attends to a sourdough starter which she also describes as forever needy. Wiping her eyes on her shirt-sleeve, she mixes brownies next, doubling the sugar, hacks walnuts with a meat cleaver. Hard to keep in line, she says. End of poem. Credits and bio: Copyright © Marte Stuart Marte Stuart lives out west. Since hearing Pádraig Ó Tuama read poetry, she hopes to one day write something worthy of his mouth. This hasn’t happened yet.