Corned Beef and Cabbage, poem by George Bilgere

CORNED BEEF AND CABBAGE
by George Bilgere

I can see her in the kitchen,
Cooking up, for the hundredth time,
A little something from her
Limited Midwestern repertoire.
Cigarette going in the ashtray,
The red wine pulsing in its glass,
A warning light meaning
Everything was simmering
Just below the steel lid
Of her smile, as she boiled
The beef into submission,
Chopped her way
Through the vegetable kingdom
With the broken-handled knife
I use tonight, feeling her
Anger rising from the dark
Chambers of the head
Of cabbage I slice through,
Missing her, wanting
To chew things over
With my mother again.

SOURCE: “Corned Beef and Cabbage” appears in George Bilgere’s collection The Good Kiss (The University of Akron Press, 2002), available at Amazon.com.

PHOTO: “Sliced cabbage” by Brian Boyle. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: George Bilgere has published five collections of poetry, most recently The White Museum, awarded the 2009 Autumn House Poetry Prize. His third book, The Good Kiss (2002), was selected by Billy Collins as recipient of the University of Akron Poetry Award. He has won numerous awards, including the Midland Authors Award, the May Swenson Poetry Award for his collection Haywire (2006), and a Pushcart Prize. Bilgere has received grants from the Witter Bynner Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, the Fulbright Commission, and the Ohio Arts Council.
His poems have appeared in numerous anthologies and journals including Poetry, Ploughshares, the Kenyon Review, Fulcrum, and the Best American Poetry series.
 Bilgere lives in Cleveland, Ohio, where he teaches creative writing at John Carroll University.