Soy sauce in my tea
Soy sauce in my tea
Or, I want a little sugar in my bowl
Posting later today because, well, Monday.
Last evening I got a note from VerseDaily: They plan to feature my poem from the Spring 2022 issue of Rattle, “In the Checkout Line at Rite Aid.” I’ve had one poem featured there before, about six years ago, which felt like a coup. This feels like gravy. It’s just the little piece of good news that I needed today.
I’ve been thinking about the reasons we why write we poetry and why it is some poems resonate and others do not. In the case of my Rite Aid poem, it was basically what my friend Judy calls a “gift poem”. In some ways, it feels too easy to be a good poem. What exactly makes a good poem? Is there an objective standard, a set of ingredients, a blueprint, steps to follow? Or is it purely subjective? One person’s “good” poem another person’s “ugh! do I really have to read this?”
My Rite Aid poem was written shortly before the pandemic, during the 2020 holiday season, when everyone in my household got sick. Christmas was a bust. New Year’s too. (It wasn’t COVID-19, as far as we know.) That trip to Rite Aid was at the beginning of contracting that crud.
I was there with my son, and we were buying Theraflu and DayQuil. As I was standing there being rung up by the same guy we’ve seen countless times over fifteen years or so, I got to thinking about how so many we encounter in our daily lives we are cordial to, even friendly with, but seldom do we take the time to even ask them their name. In this case, I was on on joking-friendly terms with the guy—Walter—behind the counter. We had a pleasant, ordinary exchange, as we always do. And then the transaction was complete.
The End.
Except, not.
Later, I hastily tapped out a poem, incorporating some of our exchange verbatim. Then I went about my business and forgot about the poem.
Fast forward to the next winter, during COVID-19 lockdown. Needless to say, I had a lot of free time. It was the last week of the year, and I spent some time scouring my hard drive for all of my recentish poems and I began the process of revising and sending them out.
Rite Aid was rejected a few times before I got the email from Rattle. It was my first acceptance from them, after about a dozen years of submitting. It felt really good.
But why that poem in particular, I wondered? I’ll never know. But it reminds me a little of an anecdote about my grandmother.
It involves that old saw, not my cup of tea.
When we’d go out for Chinese food, instead of sugar, she always put soy sauce in her tea. I always kind of went ew! on the inside—but she loved it. And who am I to tell my grandmother what to love?
There is truth to the saying about finding the right editor for the right work. All of those poems I’d previously sent to Rattle? Not their taste, but most of the poems found homes elsewhere. And the journals that rejected the Rite Aid poem? They weren’t wrong, it just wasn’t a good fit.
I will most likely never, ever put soy sauce in my tea. But also, tastes change. There was a time my younger self was vehemently against yogurt. Now I eat it every day for breakfast. So, maybe I will try it, as a way of connecting with my grandmother who is no longer here. And maybe, just maybe, I will like it. (Or I won’t. And that’s okay too.)
If you’d like to read the poem and don’t subscribe to Rattle, watch VerseDaily, but also mark your calendar for June 17 when it will appear as part of the Rattle poem-a-day series, along with a recording of my reading. Also tune in on June 12 for Rattlecast when I’ll be their guest.
And if you don’t like the poem, that’s okay. We can still be friends.
Instead of a poem today, I’ll leave you with a favorite song by Nina Simone.