One yellow onion almost forgotten
And three sweet potatoes mildewing
From the outside in. A cup of milk
Left on the counter a little too long,
Sharp cheddar cheese from the
Discount bin at Smith’s: two dollars
From a bank account of twenty.
Will this be worth it? I ask.
This is a question I often ask.
I am trying to get warm,
From the outside in. That’s
Why I am dressed like someone
Going into battle on the frontlines
Of a protest, bandana over mouth
And nose. I scare my father.
He is trying to watch TV.
The onions are wilting
But the cheese stands firm, unwavering,
When it is done, I will try to eat
Half the pan, and leave some for
Someone else. Not you. You
Cannot swallow enough wind
To fly here, and your car is slowly
Dying, despite your love.
What I like about casseroles is,
In the beginning, it’s nearly impossible to believe
This will become something we want to eat.