Butter, Bling, Poetry*

I was listening to The Splendid Table and heard this poem:
Butter

BY ELIZABETH ALEXANDER

My mother loves butter more than I do,

more than anyone. She pulls chunks off

the stick and eats it plain, explaining

cream spun around into butter! Growing up

we ate turkey cutlets sauteed in lemon

and butter, butter and cheese on green noodles,

butter melting in small pools in the hearts

of Yorkshire puddings, butter better

than gravy staining white rice yellow,

butter glazing corn in slipping squares,

butter the lava in white volcanoes

of hominy grits, butter softening

in a white bowl to be creamed with white

sugar, butter disappearing into

whipped sweet potatoes, with pineapple,

butter melted and curdy to pour

over pancakes, butter licked off the plate

with warm Alaga syrup. When I picture

the good old days I am grinning greasy

with my brother, having watched the tiger

chase his tail and turn to butter. We are

Mumbo and Jumbo’s children despite   

historical revision, despite

our parent’s efforts, glowing from the inside

out, one hundred megawatts of butter.

I'm surprised there aren't more poems about butter.  My Great Aunt Kate (for whom I was named....) used to say "Everything that is good with butter, is always better, with a little more butter. " I believe she pre-dated Julia Child's program when she made this observation.  Great Aunt Kate was, according to Bad Grandma, a legendary character.  She was about 5 feet tall, and wore heels which fit my mother (5'10") at age 6.  She maintained bright red hair until she was 65. She wore mink coats and lots of bling.  She had no children, but considered herself an expert in childrearing and deportment.  She dispensed advice freely.  Much of the bling went to my mother and my aunt.  Bad Grandma isn't really the bling type.  She's more the LLBean type. She keeps the bling tucked away, and doles it out for important events such as weddings and births.  


My sister called me today to inform me that Senor Cupcake likes to lick the butter off his toast.  "You're just like your Aunt Kate,"  she told him.
   "Aunt Cake,"  he answered, "More."  


Butter may explain my little toast problem---toast is such a good vehicle for butter. It also may have something to do with the width and breadth of my...self.  I try to temper my width and breadth with exercise.  It's a fine balance:  butterlove vs. aerobicloathing.