Last night you left a crust of prayer
on the edge of the table,
crumbs discarded all over the place,
forgotten needs, needless explanations,
hopeless tirades, songs without purpose.
And yet, and yet.
Chirps accompany your waking up
and chirrups. And clicks and tweets
and happy taps on the windowpane.
Sunlight caresses the leaves,
rustling wind sets the pace of the new morning,
deafening crickets are loudly, persistently
announcing a hot day.
It’s a good thing for some people,
a bad thing for some,
thirst being relative and lust being,
by nature, finite. You breathe, slowly,
daily bread. Then,
you make your hand into a fist,
you grab what you can
and make it your secret, your stash of hope.
The Angels envy your resilience,
their shadows move across the landscape,
when all is good with the world.
Blessed be the Lord, the creator of cinnamon,
Lord of sour glistening berries with a furry after taste
and seeds that get caught between my teeth,
red chili peppers I shouldn’t be eating
and ripe, perfect apricots I can only have when I’m home.
Blessed be the Lord, the providore, the farmer,
the creator of the mystery that turns milk into cheese,
the one who whispered the secret to the shepherd:
try this, you will like it. Like me,
when I offer a taste of the sauce on my spoon,
She says: pick this, try this.
Put a little bit of this and a little bit of that together,
see, She says, I saw and it was good.
I let the berries form out of red,
I allowed the grapes to take shape in purple,
I exploded little brown beans
/bitter dots of brown/ for my enjoyment.
I, the mother and father of more greens
than you can put a name to,
I say: eat in my name.
Blessed be the Lord of each mouthful,
blessed be the Lord, the creator of cinnamon.
The one who never said some shall have
and some shall have not,
the giver of sunshine and rain, milk and honey.
Lest we forget who is boss, eat
like it’s the last meal of your life.
Increase the volume!
I want strong tastes,
pure, saturated colours,
I want turmeric, saffron,
green olive oil,
fat pink peppercorns, baby capers,
foods that burst when you bite them,
foods enhanced by sunshine,
and their proximity to the sea.
I want seeds that hiss and crackle,
that pop and sizzle,
and are not, necessarily,
good for you.
Foods that spill out of
the contours that define them.
Foods that burn when you bite them.