That smudge on the page -
was it your thumb or mine
that added a signature of sauce?
The smear sends me into daylight
dreams of the dishes we made together,
when we set aside our different styles
in attempts to banish our hunger.
My longing sings solo
into the hush of the house,
as echoes surround me.
Your hands captivate me
as they transform flour to bread.
Your hands sure in the process,
their cumulative talent honed
by many loaves.
My attention is splintered
by that simple stain.
The conundrum of choosing
a recipe now leaves me
with a tannic aftertaste.
by sister AE from Having Writ
Note from PWB Manager,
Thanks, sister AE, for sending in your poem to share.
If others want to take part in the Jigsaw Project then head here to read how. Make sure when you send me emails that you mention PWB in the subject line.