(poetry diary 239-4/17/17) My mother put maraschino cherries on an Easter pie yesterday. My father mentioned that the cherries always remind him of a poem by Thomas Lux, so I looked it up this morning. A good poem about that little jar of cherries that was always in the back of everyone’s childhood refrigerator….
Refrigerator, 1957 [poem 1]
More like a vault — you pull the handle out
and on the shelves: not a lot,
and what there is (a boiled potato
in a bag, a chicken carcass
under foil) looking dispirited,
drained, mugged. This is not
a place to go in hope or hunger.