At Hutchmoot last weekend, a bunch of us in The Poetry Pub sat around the lunch table to discuss its future. Which we did!… but we also talked about cheese. Specifically, the string cheese that was provided in our lunch bags, which Jen Yokel called “pocket cheese.” And then, since there were two poetry readings that weekend, we challenged each other to write poems inspired by it. At least five of us did, including someone who happened to sit down at the table with us, and another person who heard the theme of cheese continue to arise and wrote one while other people were reading their poetry. (These will eventually be compiled into the first blog post at The Poetry Pub.)
GK Chesterton famously wrote that “The poets are mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.” Our poems… may be why.
Originally written Friday, October 11. #121.
The stringy strips of mozzarella cheese
That are all warm and melty in Mom’s purse
Are carried with her not from some perverse
Desire for it that she must appease,
Or deep abiding love for congealed milk,
Or memories of pizzas long devoured,
Or glasses of fresh milk, all long since soured,
Or any other nonsense of that ilk,
But from a sense of utter busyness:
From church function to function, task to task.
Some simple nourishment’s not much to ask.
This pack of string cheese is enough to bless
Her body with the energy it needs—
The strength to carry on with her good deeds.