the kitchen

the darkest chocolate couldn't compete with the brown in her eyes as she wheeled that horn of plenty to the kitchen door.

the kitchen,
where tomatoes marry milk, butter and basil
to make a pot of soup
to share at the dinner table
across from the man with salt and pepper hair.

they talk about the city, the state, the world
theories are touted, and definitions are discovered

an encyclopedia is the entree
that complements the creamy tomato soup.

their conversation continues long after
the soup spoons are cold
and the bread is no more than crumbs
and water droplets have dripped down the sides of the water goblets.

and as she stacks the two bowls in one hand and walks over to rinse them in the sink,
he remembers how she wanted a house with a big kitchen
and why he was okay with that.

for my mom, my dad, and our kitchen.


Katie said...

I love these kinds of posts.

Katya said...

love love love it. such a beautiful description!