The Whole World Gathers

She hates mushrooms,
says they smell like dirt
and grow on shit and darkness.

She hates green beans
because her thumbs still ache
from seven summers
snapping tips.

She hates kale
because she don’t wanna
chew for days
and her jaw clicks.

She loves onions and garlic –
the baseline
of everything going right.

She loves the sweeter cabbages
melted down in bacon fat,
topped with snap peas and pecans.

She’ll cook for anybody
willing to listen
to her sizzling grease.

She’ll caramelize your mind,
question every savory intention,
every bitter herb in your teeth,
salt every wound till it sweats
and goes limp in the pan.

She travels with her tongue,
her pantry her passport:
cumin, coriander, cinnamon,
cilantro and cardamom
in simmering stews of goat
and collard greens.

Her knife has a keen edge
and she cracks the joints of dead birds
like splitting cheap bamboo chopsticks.

Her eyes go wide and silent
at the range
and when the burners fire,
the whole world gathers and waits.

Image: Atharva Whaval on Unsplash

5 Thoughts

    1. Thank you, Jason

      I am truly humbled by your comment. And may I say the same for you. I look forward to reading your poetry daily. Your work has become so much a part of my life.

      This poem was written for my wife, the greatest cook in the world. When I read it to her, she smiled broadly and blushed a bit.


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