There aren’t enough poems about the lowly things.
The poets spin words about all sorts of things divine,
wax on eloquently, while we all nod our heads
and snap our fingers over love, justice, death.
But never enough poems about the lowly things–
car keys, spoons, crossswalks and dental floss –
forever taken for granted, we pay no homage
to the waker, the maker, the sleeper,
the one who gets up every day to lay it down
because that’s what they have to do.
And what about peanut butter?
Sweet, savory, life threatening peanut butter.
Born of necessity like so many other delicacies —
if all there is to eat is peanuts, we find a way to eat peanuts.
But unlike it’s breathren, this lowly divinity
was never elevated to the gourmet.
The Portuguese fishermen grew tired of lobster,
but it was saved by a new image.
Like oysters, caviar, beet & potato soup,
scavenger foods are all top the menu now,
but what of the peanut?
Still only $4.99 a pound?