No announcement yet.

Kitchen Sestina

  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • Kitchen Sestina

    Kitchen Sestina

    The burning crockery pot shrivels
    white shreds of pomegranate pith
    like the insides of open eggs.
    Yellowed tombstone teeth of maize
    punch, one by one, out of their roots
    and freefall under your pinwheel eye.

    Dear, hunger wedges in your eye
    like mountains to the sky -- remember that skin shrivels
    underneath warm water, grotty hair sways from oily roots,
    you too reflect in the juice of onion pith
    and the greening of old cornfield maize.
    Sizzling oil covers sleeping eggs.

    Crescent violets slice in your palms like cracked eggs
    heavy with life, golden milky eye
    the runny yellow inside seeds of maize.
    Your gaze pendulums and shrivels
    the underbellies of pans on sight, eyes’ white pith
    lonely in color and ancestral in roots.

    Morning steam knits and rolls, roots
    breaking bubbles of gas like eggs.
    No, I am not imagining the flowers on your apron, red pith
    juiced and wrung from dimpled meat, stew bowl a brimming eye.
    The boiling rawness cooks and shrivels,
    your flushed heart photosynthesizing a thousand fields of maize.

    I was little, we were parallel -- your teeth were showing like grains from maize
    in the sunshowers we used to watch, tracing the creases in our palms like roots.
    Once the bees landed in your hair. Three dove in deathless shrivels
    and died on our arms in minutes, bodies torn like dropped eggs
    on marble tiles. The poison caramelized your cupped eye,
    and for weeks we clawed the skin from our pith.

    Now home for years, your knife sieves citrus pith,
    juice stains spreading like August sun on maize.
    The satchel on your hip weaves the asbestos in your eye,
    mirrored in stainless steel and wild yam roots.
    Dear, you were born as startling as eggs
    and as swift as October stalk shrivels.

    When hungering pith dives and shrivels
    your eye burns like the guts of tenement eggs
    and maize eats air like monsoon roots.

    Michelle Chen
    Whitestone, NY

  • #2
    My first post on rhyme zone, so comment and tell me what you think!