Poem: Mom’s Pasta Spoon

She stood at the steaming stove
with the pasta spoon in her hand,
ready to sink its black teeth into the
spaghetti.

We were starving for her
to lift those cooked threads with the sleek tool
and serve us the supper we waited all day for:
The spaghetti, the sauce, the hunger –
gone.


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Poem for Mother's Day
and for
Thursday Poets Rally