The Promise Of Risotto

Originally posted 4/30/2011.

I lean in to suck hissing gas
from the unlit burner,
just to see what that’s like.

I’ve got good food to cook,
good enough for a last meal
in fact.  And if I get past that,

there’s decent dessert too.  So
I stop. I will not put myself
so close just yet. It’s the little things

that always, always
do the trick.  The cat
hovering nearby with sacred fur.

The promise of risotto.
The desire not to leave a mess
for loved ones.  

I take what I can get
from the bag of small miracles,
treat them as talismans.  

Anticipation of dark chocolate, 
pear cider, cool night air
on open skin. 

My hand filled
with whatever makes it hard 
to grip a razor.