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This is the first revision of a poem I wrote last week. I decided to try to insert some form in to it, so I thought I'd ask you all if the form suits it, or if it feels artificial. Any other input is appreciated as well. (also, just to save you any precious google time, "balaboosta" is aYiddish word which conveys the concept of an idealized housewife/homemaker.)
Balaboosta By Evan M. Rosenberg
For special occasions attempts were made:
A pot of matzah ball soup on the stove.
Cholent simmering in the slow cooker.
Little plates with a green leaf of lettuce
topped with gefilte fish and horse raddish.
A beef brisket warming in the oven,
secret ingredient: Coca-Cola.
The other 300 days of the year,
she may have warmed a bagel for breakfast,
or defrosted a container of soup,
but never did my mother prepare meals
The end the work day finds my mother
in her kitchen, filing appointments.
Checking for new messages on the phone.
Packing school lunchboxes with pre-made snacks.
The counter covered with green and blue checks
meant to be counted for the PTA.
The stove-top empty, as is the oven.
My mother chose to keep her own last name
and got herself a doctoral degree.
Still, she always remained in her kitchen,
but she changed its purpose to suit her own.