She Never Went Hungry
She couldn’t remember
the first time she saw an avocado.
Even if she’d known about them
they would have been too expensive
to find their way to her shopping cart.
She bought at the base exchange:
potatoes, flour, sugar
canned corn and red beans
Wonder bread and baloney.
He took his lunch.
Sandwiches and cookies and
a thermos of coffee.
She waitressed at the pancake house
where two free meals
could be anything on the menu
(except the T-bone.)
Mostly she chose pancakes,
homemade pie, ice cream
growing plump beneath the
white nylon uniform.
By Thanksgiving she knew
her rounding stomach
was more than too much starch.
If she didn’t count the vomiting
and the loss of interest in sex,
it was a good time.
She quit her job, took up nesting
filled the freezer with casseroles
and the dresser with tiny
handmade shirts and blankets
While he spent all his time
working on the car.
She filled the empty space
with television
mother-to-be magazines
and lemon meringue pies.
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