I am processing words for dinner, cutting
sentences into juicy bite-size chunks,
heaping them into a bowl, a casserole, a
stainless steel vat, and putting them on the stove
to simmer. I have dirtied every utensil
in the house. Even the cherry pitter needs washing,
and the apple peeler corer that mounts on the wall.
I am packing brown bag sonnets to go. It’s the one thing
I know how to do in the kitchen. If you’re hungry,
eat it now. The dishes can wait till tomorrow.
Published in Alimentum: The Literature of Food