The Love of a Wife and Mother
Cleave unto me.
Flesh of my flesh.
I give my life to them
as the Lord decrees, ask little,
only a pound or two
each night for dinner.
A slice of my husband’s gluteus muscle,
a daughter’s shinbone or son’s shoulder
fed through my meat grinder,
patted to hamburger, perhaps,
served at table with grace
and fresh flowers, according to season.
Such is the love of a wife and mother,
only to be left, little by little
until all that is left – the memories,
which are, undeniably, delicious.