sauces

your mother was all over
the sauces.
red sauce, white sauce.
you name it sauce.
gravy too.
she'd make it in gallons.
working for days,
standing over the stove
with a wooden spoon,
stirring, sweating,
talking on the phone
telling every one she was
making sauce for
the holidays. she'd tape
and write the date
and what it was on the top
of each container.
this was in august.
she couldn't stop making
sauces and talking about
what work it was.
happy and proud with what
she was doing.
so when the power went out
she couldn't understand
why the insurance company
wouldn't cover
the loss of all her
hard work, gone bad in
the defrosted ice box.