Crab Orchard Review Vol. 12, No. 2, our

Lisa Ortiz
Easter Poem
That sunset of eggs in a carton—
they blaze in your fridge now, you grown-up woman,
and it will be in this oven that you picked out
from a warehouse of ovens that the ham is cooked,
the green bean casserole, the dough
rising on your counter.
And it is your children who search
the plastic grass of their baskets
for foiled chocolate and jelly eggs—though it is still Christ
who rises again and again from the dead,
who ascends in a mist of clouds above a congregation:
still to His service they rush, and you hear
through the window songs and prayers, the rustle of younger legs
in pale dresses—yet in the cathedral of your kitchen
you blow steam from the sweet rolls,
lick the sugar from your fingers and hum
not a hymn but a pop song from your high school days
about summer love and sunglasses, swing
your dusty hips and count again—for all those who will arrive—
a tidy row of forks and spoons.
Crab Orchard Review ◆ 157