Another Creature: Poems

Faculty Wife with Hummus

Faculty Wife with Hummus Charmed, I’m sure, to meet you. I made the hummus—marbled blue pottery bowl just south of the shrimp, and topped with cilantro, and I made the bowl. Never mind that I spent today trotting my Birkies all over your town in search of tahini. Tahini—it’s sesame paste, ground up sesame seeds; one teaspoon can add three pounds. Hummus is that, and garlic and mashed chick peas—garbanzo beans—I soaked them raw and hard all night while my husband hacked into another grant proposal. Thanks, it’s a raku glaze, and try the hummus. I had a job where they used to call me Ms. I was in charge of a staff of twenty-five. I have a double masters in Yin and Yang. Please try my hummus, a Middle Eastern staple, a sesame-bean pâté. Four stores for a raggedy bunch of cilantro. Four languages I speak fluently: French, Russian, Greek, and Portuguese. Where in this town can I go for fresh portobellos? Is there an artichoke 69 east of Elk Mound? How do you cope with six months of ice and snow? Where is the nearest place I can climb some rocks? Can I wrap you some hummus to go? I had a job with a parking space reserved. Pantyhose and lipstick every day. Soaked overnight, not canned. Four cloves of garlic peeled and pestled fresh, by my own hand. 70 ...