Deirdre Neilen, PhD: Gail Hosking gives us a playful look into both her refrigerator and her character in her poem "The Zen of My Refrigerator."
I love emptying the leftovers
like the rest of fresh mint
into my ice tea, or
the parsley in meatloaf
I hope will last more than one night.
You with a little bit of mashed potatoes,
me with the one sweet potato tucked
in the back of the vegetable drawer.
The last of steak sauce for flavor.
I love adding a tomato or two
in the dal on the stove, an old onion
dropped into the pot. It's my hope
you'll finish the pudding too or
the local asparagus with its feathery
foliage. I'm not one for a new beginning
every night. I'm more the one that first
has to witness space, those empty
trays to give myself permission
to add more. Only then can I
consider other possibilities.
I pour the remaining sparkling water
into my glass, then the rest of the white wine,
stirring a bit of breathing room for the spirit
like a painting we aren't done with yet
or an inhalation of delicious air.