Miso Not So Bad

Shaved brussels
Not yet past their prime
Fresh peas, though the ideal
Unneeded, now, to build this meal

Please pray with me
My dying wish — the miso’s not gone bad
In the refrigerator way

Kitchen shears that snip-snipped happily at chives that waited just for me
Somehow found their way to the floor
Could be an honest omen, or
A sign of what’s to come

Not my garden’s tomatoes, fool
They’re for another day!

Please forgive the white, white rice
Devoid of what I crave

Sesame to remind me and tofu hacked haphazardly
Tamari, I wish

Here, this delicious dish

No Gown

Are we okay with being alone
With no other soul to hold the ladder
To stand by us, tasting, in the test-kitchen that is life

Allowing, for once, after all the illusion
When we release our grasp and find no one but ourselves

Need we ask why
What mythical stealth robbed us here
Who climbed into this tower, cat-like, to gleefully take

What will we make of it
This secondhand plan that has nothing to do with the tales we were told
A finer legacy, perhaps

Saffron or Something

 Your skin carries the scent
Of curry
But I’m not certain if it’s yours or mine
There’s no space between us 

Your lips remind of the burn
Of cinnamon
But I warn you to go lightly
There’s no accountability on my part
Going forward

when i wake

Some One
in the Kitchen
boiling Water 
Beside me

with a Light on
with a warm Voice
with a Penchant 
for Chai tea 

wanting Details
frOm my dreaming
so to Use them
Against me