Drinking the Guava

A poem by Joan E. Bauer

June 16, 2011

 

Ever since I was a kid,
my mother has been handing me
cups of weird juice concoctions 

that I will do almost anything
not to drink. This has something to do
with her being Sicilian

and having a garden with 14 fig, 5 persimmon,
6 guava trees.

But now she is frail,
in a purple bathrobe with fraying gold trim.
She's not making guava juice

any more. She has me
make her a bowl of instant potatoes
which she adorns

with a dollop of peanut butter.
I still remember
being five

when my mother
wouldn't let me go to a party
because I wouldn't eat an avocado.

My mother says:
Just mash the guavas,
mix them with water.

Then she says,
You'd be even more beautiful
with a little lipstick. 

--  Joan E. Bauer

 

 

Joan E. Bauer lives in Shadyside and is the director/founder of Going Places, A College Counseling Resource. Her first full-length book of poetry, The Almost Sound of Drowning, was published in 2008 by Main Street Rag. Many writers featured in Chapter & Verse are guests of Prosody, produced by Jan Beatty and Ellen Wadey. Prosody airs every Wednesday at 7:30 p.m. on WYEP 91.3 FM.

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The commenter has always liked Joan's poems which deal with memoir and her poems which relate her California years.

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Posted by Romell on 03/28/2014 at 3:10 PM
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