ON PEELING POTATOES

When I peel potatoes, I put my head down,

as if I am still following orders and being loyal

to my commander. I feel a connection across

time to others putting their heads down

in fatigued thought, as if this most natural

act signified living the way I wanted to,

with the bad spots cut out, and eluding

my maker. Instead of cobwebs, tumult,

and dragons, I experience an abundance

of good things, like sunlight leaking through

tall pines in the backyard. I say to myself:

This is certainly not a grunt’s knowledge—

perception of a potato as my own soul—

but a sturdy, middle-aged, free man’s.