My Son’s Birthday Cake is a Pie
A Blueberry Pie for Joshua
Rolling out pie dough
into continent shapes
first Asia, then Africa
I feel my grandmother’s wildness in me
navigating rough edges of coastline
as I steer the rolling pin like an oar
like an antique relic from her “roaring 20s”
it rocks back and forth
I relive my mother’s frustration
while patching the dough where it’s spotty or torn
trying to stretch what isn’t enough
nine kids, two hands, and a sticky mix
that clings to wax paper
As I search the bowl of blueberries
for the bluest black ones
I remember 4 and 20 blackbirds baked in a pie
and my son arranging battles
between blueberries and grapes
The blueberries always lost because he ate them
Soon he will come to collect
a last sweet taste of his childhood
He doesn’t care that the pie center has sunk
that the blueberries aren’t wild from Cape Cod
He doesn’t remember when women wore aprons
and mothers taught daughters how to bake
With two potholders I carry the pie
set it on the table to cool
something in-between
wild and tame, sweet and sour
something in-between
Three little kittens that lost their mittens
and Eve’s holy offering of fruit
all exist together in an archetypal pie
Raised by her German carpenter father
my mother never taught me how to bake a pie
but I saw her do it and learned by osmosis
and with the help of my friend Jayn’s recipe
It doesn’t matter that my mother didn’t teach me
because Jayn’s mother taught her
and now my pie sits on the table
an icon at an altar
an enduring reminder
of every mother’s love
Post Note: The above poem was written for my son Josh’s 24th birthday. He just turned 31 and came home from Asheville over the weekend for his birthday pie.
July 14th, 2010 9:57 am
I love this! So much love rolled into the dough, learned by osmosis! An annual birthday pie, sounds like a great idea.
July 14th, 2010 12:01 pm
I absolutely LOVE everything about this entry!! xo
July 14th, 2010 12:30 pm
You’d love the pie too! I made a second one after they left so I can eat it every night for supper until I get sick of it.
July 14th, 2010 5:55 pm
mmmmmmmm..I would rather have the pie…and a great poem too! Wonderful entry!
July 15th, 2010 12:59 am
colleen, this is such a lovely poem in so many ways. a tribute to love, to motherhood, the past and present, nuturing with food, with our own loving hands, celebrating, etc. would be nice to print it in a nice font and mat and frame it.
July 15th, 2010 6:03 am
That’s a lovely looking pie coupled with a lovely poem. I wished I can make something like that.
July 15th, 2010 8:11 am
[…] 4. I relive my mother’s frustration … while patching the dough where it’s spotty or torn … trying to stretch what isn’t enough … nine kids … two hands … and a sticky mix … that clings to wax paper … Finish reading A Blueberry Pie for Joshua HERE. […]
August 31st, 2010 10:52 am
[…] son Josh came up from Asheville for his birthday. I met his girlfriend for the first time and we got the whole family together for a meal at Mickey […]
July 2nd, 2014 11:15 pm
[…] of blueberries. Josh loved blueberries so much that for his July 10th birthday I used to make him a blueberry pie instead of cake. I even wrote a poem about him and blueberries, so when I heard he’d be in town […]
July 6th, 2016 10:00 pm
[…] 11. Pie Baking: Rolling out pie dough / into continent shapes / first Asia, then Africa / I feel my grandmother’s wildness in me / navigating rough edges of coastline / as I steer the rolling pin like an oar / like an antique relic from her “roaring 20s” / it rocks back and forth … Read the rest of this poem HERE. […]