La Bella Donna

This poem originally appeared in The Akros Review, a literary journal of the English Department at The University of Akron Spring 2000 issue

The good wife picks out the eyes,

scrubs their jackets clean,

and sets them to boil—

potatoes for salad.

She picks out his tie,

hands him his clean jacket,

and watches him out the door—

ready for the important meetings.

The scent of his cologne lingers

mingling with the smells of the kitchen,

haunting her.

The white potato,

solanum tuberosum.

You can never tell about a potato

Slicing into them, she finds

it is the perfect-looking one that

has the rotten heart.

And she wonders

if he will be home for dinner.

Later she will stir the dish that sat out

far too long.

And she thinks of solanum nigrum—

deadly nightshade—

first cousin to the potato,

and wonders

what sort of salad it would make.