Peanut Butter Fudge

By Mian Anais

A recipe for hunger pains 

First gather the last two ingredients in your pantry

Next scoop the half empty jar of peanut butter 

and old can of cake frosting into a bowl and stir

Sprinkle in an extra dash of love,

spoon the mixture into and ice cube tray 

And freeze until your stomach feels like it's eating itself

And you can't stand to make your siblings wait any longer

When you are feeling sweet and satisfied

Forgive your mama

Convince yourself she wont let it happen again

I grew up swallowing hunger

Like white lies

My stomach knew hunger pains 

Like my baby brothers behind 

studied the leather of Mama's belt

The day he told the school

that we didn't have any food

They sent us home with a box of blessings 

And Mama still thanked God with the belt in her hand

That night I cooked plenty

And we ate

And we ate 

Until we couldn't feel the food dropping

into the pit of our empty stomachs

That night wasn't the first time 

my baby brother fed the family

I learned how to boil bath water

Before I learned how to comb the kinks in my hair

Sat in the steaming tub

Like the water being cut off was a luxury

Still let mama pour the water down my back

I spread pallets in the living room

And told my siblings we were camping 

when the house grew too dark

The first time I lit a candle

It was not a sacred practice of self care

Not a ritual, but survival 

We didn’t run high baths or bathe in bubbles 

We used what we could find 

A capful of dawn or tide in boiled water 

Praying it didn’t sting our skin 

Or leave us smelling like dish soap 

There was no ease in our routine

We were extra careful 

Made sure we always got clean enough

Because no one would ever say we looked poor 

Hair laid with cheap grease and a prayer 

We scraped up just enough for blue magic 

And conditioner 

The dollar kind you weren’t supposed to leave in 

But we marinated our curls anyway 

We washed uniforms in the sink 

Hung clothes to dry

By the sad sagging clothesline 

Until they grew warm and smelled like the sun 

We ironed our pants extra careful 

Creased each leg like it would keep us together 

Like sharp lines would make us look held 

We didn’t have much 

Barely had each other But did our best 

To make a fractured house feel like home 

Learned how to laugh

With bellies full of nothing 

Survival is its own recipe 

Measured in silence 

Stirred with shame 

Served in portions too small to grow on 

Mama gave the world the warmth

we searched for in silence 

Loved out loud 

For everyone but us 

We were a second thought

A promise she made and forgot to keep 

By Mian Anais