God of the Cupboards

By Kelsi Folsom

It’s the big can of black beans

on the shelf by the stove whose

lid evades my attempts at prying

it just won’t give.

Fooled by the strength in my arms

and my hands I carry

Too much to the sink,

I carry

too much noise to breakfast

and midnight

so I stop at the sink to take

a breather at midday.

I sit before

God’s eyes

astonished

they still

look for me.

Have I not wasted

enough of God’s time

wallowing in pits

of unworthiness?

I got stuck again this morning,

like five minutes before

I need to leave

like always

the list of

“Let me do that

real quick,”

keeps multiplying

calcifying all my

senses of freedom.

But what makes me

free isn’t productivity—

Like I can’t fold

my name into a

sweet potato muffin

and bake it into a

life I can bite—

Holy, holy, holy,

is the cry of my eyes

searching desperately

for God in all the cupboards.

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Kelsi Folsom is a poet, seminary student, wife, and mom to four kids making her home in Northwest Ohio. Her essays and poems are published in Coffee and Crumbs, Grit and Virtue, Ekstasis, Clayjar Review, Wildroof Journal, The Caribbean Writer, Motherscope, Voice of Eve, and elsewhere. She is the author of three poetry collections, most recently Breaking the Jar (Finishing Line Press, 2022), and is a jazz singer with Global Missions Project. When she isn’t doing laundry, cooking, or picking up legos, she enjoys travelling with her family, scouring estate sales, and getting lost in a good novel. You can find her on IG @kelsifolsom, and at her website, www.kelsifolsom.com.