Peas

I’d sure like to have the recipe for those peas

And the women choked back their laughter

Not wanting to offend this relative from the north

Who was eating her first Crowder peas

Then one — there’s no recipe, you just cook ‘em              

None of them had ever seen written in book

Or on a note card — cover with water, add salt

And simmer with a little fat pork until tender

They had seen their grandmothers and mothers

Cook peas until the liquor was dark as molasses

Just right to welcome crumbled cornbread

My mother threw back her head and laughed

While telling of this funeral-dinner scene

And we doubted the woman could even find

Pink-eyed, purple-hulled peas in Michigan