I made bread without oil,
green beans without salt
and ate them with hot tea
on the last cool day before summer.
I had no milk for the tea,
no butter for the bread,
no hunger for the meal.
I used no spoon or fork,
scooping up beans with pieces of bread.
I washed the single dish and two pans
without soap in water hot enough to scald.
I put them away in the cupboard that has no door.
Then I took my lukewarm tea onto the porch
and watched the sun waste an afternoon.
I sat against the wall of the house on my heels
with my skirt covering my barefoot toes,
I didn't use the glider just for myself, alone.
The night came and it had no stars
and the moon was missing like I miss you.
-- Joyce for Jeanne