Ava Leavell Haymon.
“Louie’s: Home of the Veggie Omelet.”
— on the cook’s t-shirt
© Ava Leavell Haymon.
Used by permission.
All rights reserved.
for Mona Lisa Saloy
Louie’s at eleven
waiting for Mona Lisa.
The cook saws
a frozen muffin in two
and sticks it in the toaster.
I ask for some tea and squeeze
the bag. The place
fills up, it’s getting noisy.
Mona Lisa must have forgotten.
Arms wave along the counter,
stories warm, inflate. The cook
moves faster, beats eggs
with a fork. Chamomile tea,
hot down my throat. I open
in two halves, like the waffle iron:
head to toe, along a cleft
parallel to my nose — an altarpiece
carving of God
the Father, that creaks open
on its medieval hinges
to the Mary and baby
nesting inside. Her forehead
is grave, Flemish. She is
handing the baby the round ball
of the world. I go ahead and order:
veggie omelet, toast
with no butter, refill
same tea bag. The gold leaf
of the ball is dimmed
with age, Mary’s blue gone
to patches of indigo and worm-
riddled wood. I’m going to eat
alone: she’s forgotten,
I’m sure of it. The griddle
goes yellow with my egg.
The gold ball’s
not the sun, not the earth — the baby
cracks it with one hand.
A yellow blanket wraps
bean sprouts, bell pepper,
chopped zucchini, celery,
red cabbage, onion.
Text prepared by:
- Bruce R. Magee
Source
Haymon, Ava Leavell. Eldest Daughter. Baton Rouge: LSU Pr., 2013. © Ava Leavell Haymon. Used by permission. All rights reserved.