What Do I Know
Babies, irises have to push their way
into this world, meringue beats lighter
in a copper bowl, ants avoid alum, cast
iron pans are best for frying fish or potatoes.
I know how to prune a peach tree, cut suckers,
drop dead from laughter once or twice a year.
It is possible to darn a garment with human hair,
stitching so fine you will have trouble finding the tear.
My husband will become amorous when I prepare his
favorite meals. If he should die first, leaving me alone
with arthritic hands and knees, I won’t be able to trim tall
hedges, move ladders, solve the thorny problem of the second
pond. I will miss him; then I won’t.