Poem by Megan Schliesman

Potatoes

Delicious when mashed and covered in gravy, or

Cubed and tossed with olive oil, paprika,
fresh rosemary and garlic before being
roasted as part of my favorite sheet pan supper,
fat from chicken thighs crisping each morsel to sublime, or

Baked whole and topped with butter, sour cream
and more sour cream, or

French fried, of course, or

Boiled baby reds with butter, lemon and parsley, or

Sliced and fried in Grandma’s cast iron skillet,
seasoned with just salt and pepper, or

Hashed browned, or

Pureed with leeks and stock into soup,
but not

Raw from a field at the edge of my childhood
where we’d been told we could take ones
left behind after harvest, not

The farmer, when he arrived, gruff and angry, not

My mother, on her knees in the dirt,
offering to put them back, not

​him, waving her away.

THEME: Childhood Hunger, How food can elicit a memory of scarcity

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BIO: Megan Schliesman lives in Madison, Wisconsin. A retired librarian, Megan's professional work and writing concentrated on children's and young adult literature and intellectual freedom in libraries and classrooms. In retirement she’s broadened her writing focus while continuing to often grapple with challenges to democracy and Constitutional rights in our country.