CANNED PEAS
written by: Ingrid Bruck
After Morgan Parker’s poem, Afro.
First line: “I’m thinking secrets and weapons in there”
Canned peas — my most hated vegetable.
I’m thinking about store-bought, mushy ones.
My mother Alice feeds our large family
meals makes from cans and boxes.
She cooks for eleven on $25 dollars a week.
One can of tuna, one can of peas,
one can of mushroom soup,¹
a bag of crumbled potato chips—
we eat tuna casserole for dinner.
All us kids would pick out mushy peas,
dull green and slimy as frozen hydrangea.
Even the garbage disposal dog,
Rufus,² under the kitchen table
refuses the gift of peas.
I spit mine into a napkin
when no one is looking.
The little ones have a trick
I only discover later
when one leg falls off the table
and dad props it up on that corner
with a stack of wooden milk crates—
the little kids have been dropping their peas
down the hollow metal table legs.³
I grow up feeling sorry for poor people
with no idea that’s me.
¹ Campbell’s creamed soups—with the Red-and-Blue label—were a staple in my childhood.
² Rufus, our friendly slob of a dog, loved kids and every bitch in heat in the neighborhood.
³ When the metal leg falls off, I shake it. All those dried peas sound like a rainstick.
https://spillwords.com/canned-peas/
Date Published: March 9, 2025