Martha
by Katha Pollitt
Well, did he think the food would cook itself?
Naturally, he preferred the sexy one,
the one who leaned forward with velvet eyes and asked
clever questions that showed she’d done the reading.
You’ll notice he didn’t summon up a picnic
so that I could put up my feet and hear how lilies
do nothing but shine in God’s light. God’s
movie star, he says
we stand in glory, we are loved like sparrows,
like grains of sand: there are so many of us!
He means he stands, he is loved.
The music wells up in the dark theater:
a kiss, a kill, a tumult of clouds and symbols!
We lift our hands, we weep, we don’t deserve him.
I don’t deserve him. I’m
all wrong. I’m nothing, hurrying home
in my raincoat and practical shoes.
The sky won’t speak to me. But still,
somebody’s got to care about the tablecloth
and the bread, and the wine.
