Poem - “Tuesday Soup”

In Monday’s soup, you put in

What you have –

–

Leftovers from Sunday,

Chicken, red rice, cilantro.

–

On Tuesday, you put in

What you have

–

Even less of now,

The one leftover piece of dark chicken

–

Nobody wanted, the suspect

Rice with the black-rim

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Stain from something, something

That got dropped, or from a spoon

–

Dipped into something else first

Then used in the rice, a stain

–

Growing darker by the hour,

Darker and bigger.

–

On Tuesday, dinner skates

At the edge of the ice.

–

Wednesday is something safe,

Starting over with fresh beans,

–

A trip to the grocery store, jícama,

Bananas and chilies, all fresh, all new.

–

Thursday survives by luck,

Living on the enthusiasms of Wednesday,

–

The small piece of pork that was on sale,

The other extras, the olives,

–

The big sack of soft avocados

Too ripe to wait, which is why they were so cheap.

–

Friday begins the weekend,

Three days that take care of themselves in the world.

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But Tuesday, Tuesday is what people remember,

Like it or not, Tuesday, so easy to forget

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Otherwise. Tuesday, always circumstance and luck,

A day in which gamblers sit at the dinner table,

–

Unfortunate and miserable. But in the quiet attempt

Whoever cooks dinner makes,

–

Tuesday is the day

All great discoveries are made.

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“Tuesday Soup” from The Dangerous Shirt. Copyright © 2009 by Alberto Ríos. Reprinted by permission of Copper Canyon Press. See coppercanyonpress.org.