When We String Beans
I let my belly fatten
at home against
the stainless steel bowl
it cradles and we women
pop and string
and talk about love—
we love our work and it’s hard—
the building of stories,
our stories, the designs we keep
tossing up to God—
when I was a girl I had a basket of apricots
and I spun it up over my head
so fast that none of them fell
when the basket turned
upside down—I had something on gravity—
but now I know better
and let my body fall into place
even though that means dying—
we talk and your husband
takes our bowl, rinsing our
work in water
