2 thoughts on “Question 10

  1. Hunger
    Come home.
    I will feed you
    pasta and pears,
    Jorge’s burnt-tongue
    chili, Aunt Millie’s
    buttermilk pie.
    In the blue
    mornings, we will
    sit by the east
    window. I will
    soothe you with
    soup and milk,
    sweeten you with honey
    and chocolate,
    cappuccino
    in the afternoons,
    sweet wine
    at night.
    Your skin, pale
    and dry from long
    absence, will fill
    and flush
    with peppers
    and garlic.

  2. A SIMPLE Poetry RECIPE
    Braised poultry laced with chenin blanc, its garlic blended with cinnamon spiced cider and onions altogether with my paprika and cayenne chips, ground sasafrass leavcs smoothered in spinach and apples…
    Today I feed you.
    To appease your hunger for something less delicate, abd pray my mother’s spirit is just her hopeful haunting as I give the best of Bayou Teche, updated only by the olive oil in place of old drippings from her dated community coffee cans, and virgin viniagrette aged only by this longing, a need to feed and share and pray.
    Today I feed you.

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