{"id":136969,"date":"2023-09-02T20:38:28","date_gmt":"2023-09-03T00:38:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=136969"},"modified":"2023-09-02T21:52:42","modified_gmt":"2023-09-03T01:52:42","slug":"2pm-poem-12-pantry-closet","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2023\/09\/2pm-poem-12-pantry-closet\/","title":{"rendered":"2pm. Poem 12. Pantry Closet"},"content":{"rendered":"

2pm. Poem 12.<\/span><\/p>\n

Pantry Closet<\/span><\/p>\n

She taught through her actions<\/span>
\nnot words.<\/span><\/p>\n

She showed silently,<\/span><\/p>\n

“There is not enough <\/span>
\nunless there are two or three <\/span>
\nof each of everything”<\/span><\/p>\n

This was the scarcity <\/span>
\nof living on the other <\/span>
\nside of the tracks <\/span>
\nin the ’30’s… the ’40’s…<\/span><\/p>\n

It held on, didn’t let go <\/span>
\nclung like field cotton remnants <\/span>
\nto socks and shoelaces, <\/span>
\nraised fingerblisters from <\/span>
\npickin, pickin all day everyday<\/span>
\nuntil every bush was cleared.<\/span><\/p>\n

This is the scarcity of cannin<\/span>
\ntumadus n black eye peas <\/span>
\npeaches n plumbs <\/span>
\nfrom her gardens and trees, <\/span>
\nthe scarcity of hoards <\/span>
\nof store boughts, <\/span>
\nof nothing gets thrown away<\/span><\/p>\n

the scarcity <\/span>
\nthat sent her frenzied <\/span>
\nwhen after Dad passed <\/span>
\nI took to her Pantry Closet <\/span>
\nwith giant black trash bags <\/span>
\nfor anything expired<\/span><\/p>\n

the scarcity that pulled <\/span>
\nclear hot tears from her gut <\/span>
\nas dozens and dozens of cans <\/span>
\nand jars and boxes <\/span>
\nwent to the garbage <\/span>
\nalong with her notion <\/span>
\nthat if anyone ever mentioned<\/span>
\nthey wanted something, <\/span>
\nshe had it there to give<\/span><\/p>\n

the scarcity that kept her <\/span>
\nup in her chair for three days<\/span>
\n“tryin’a figure out <\/span>
\nhow to get it all back”<\/span><\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

2pm. Poem 12. Pantry Closet She taught through her actions not words. She showed silently, “There is not enough unless there are two or three of each of everything” This was the scarcity of living on the other side of the tracks in the ’30’s……<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1305,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,1136,441],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-136969","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","category-official-marathon-prompts","category-poetry-prompt-responses"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136969","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1305"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=136969"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136969\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":137758,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136969\/revisions\/137758"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=136969"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=136969"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=136969"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}