here is a new poem I recently wrote after cooking a delicious meal
TENDERNESS
This is the belly of an animal
in slices / in strata / in textures
Embedded in the skin I see
scorch-curled and pin-straight hairs remain
I seek the kitchen tweezers and begin
eyes so close yet fingertips do the seeing
never having tweezed anything with such care
I pluck hairs before braising
Delicate
they break or slide unwilling through the tips
Food is the language of my love and so
I pluck once more after braising
the softened skin is so giving
it wants to present a perfect dish with me
it wants to present a perfect bite with me
The persistent follicles have given in
and as sticky collagen clings
I imagine the nourishment
plumping our human skins
We thanked the butcher but now I thank the pig
After the slaughter
after the butcher has carved
after the cook has plucked
after the cook has braised
the cruellest part is not the laughter inside the word slaughter
but the transience in our eating
a savour of mere minutes
the only remains of this sweet soft belly
are the blonde hairs at rest in water at the bottom of a blue ramekin
and the molecules invisibly at work within
and the memory of plucking tender flesh
I read this at an Octagon Collective open mic and poetry night in November. I liked the way it sounded in voice like that.
xoxo