POET WEAVER~TAMMY TRENDLE

Making breakfast for dinner

by Tammy Trendle

broken eggs in a bowl
red spots in the yolk
I scoop them out with a hollow shell
brown, made without the use of

hormones replaced with a pill
age 33, her friends from law school
were having kids and she wanted one too
pre-menopause, the doctor said

fertilized egg, she explained
during lunch in the office break room
this is why she stopped buying organic - -
too many times she’d find
drops of blood

thick and yellow
small quick circles with a fork
metal taps against ceramic
a rhythmic sound

of coiled springs
my dad and stepmother
only a thin wall between us
she lost her first breast
at the age of 32
soon after the house became quiet

a small voice behind me
mommy, where’s your penis?
my two-and-a-half year old son asks
and I tell him that mommy doesn’t have one
because mommy is a girl

nowadays a girl can be anything she wants
my grandfather said to me - -
go to college, get an education, be successful

a dash of Tabasco
a splash of milk

breasts leak beneath my blouse
no place to pump at work
except the storage room
cardboard boxes, paper towels spread out
on a dusty table and a picture
of my smiling baby boy

small talk about organic eggs in the break room
plastic bottles of my breast
milk in the fridge next to her
leftover lasagna

No one ever taught me how to make it
how to juggle without breaking
all the things I want

little things like
his big blue eyes when he says
mommy, thank you for making me
breakfast.

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I met Tammy in MySpace, a place I got overwhelmed by, but I did meet some great poets/friends there.

Tammy's poetry always seems to effortlessly weave scenes and images. Casual conversations, glimpses, passing thoughts, sounds - all these threads come together in a stunning way. Like the poem above peaks with:

"No one ever taught me how to make it
how to juggle without breaking
all the things I want"

I e-mailed Tammy to ask permission to post this poem, and to find out what goes into her work.

For this poem in particular she, " . . . wanted to write a poem about what it feels like to be a woman in today's world - - juggling career, motherhood, being a wife, a friend, etc. And the absurdity of having to pump in the storage room at work and storing bottles of breast milk in the refrigerator at work . . ."

She finds inspiration for most of her poetry during her long Atlanta commute to and from her day job. Poems by Tammy can be found at Her Kind of Blog.