Kitchen Magic

Washing my car
to make it rain, or

watching that Rhianna video
where she’s begging for the music

not to stop
while I’m waiting for a war poem

to show up and stop the music —
these acts are each important 

on their own even though the aim
of doing each is to make 
something else happen.

It’s kitchen magic: doing small satisfying things
to draw forth greater satisfaction.

Chop herbs and vegetables
with a perfect knife.  Slice

meats paper thin. Bring the oil
to the right heat to bubble 

exactly as love bubbles inside me
when it begins. 

Time to work kitchen magic, then,
against the current splintering of the world.

Cook up something filling and good
to hold off the emptiness.

Breathe in rich scents from the pan
and the pot, from the grill

over the dangerous fire
that’s barely contained right now.

It’s time for kitchen magic, not for
the grand gesture. Wash the car

to make it rain, because we need the rain
and the car looks better when it’s clean.

Watch the hell out of Rhianna’s video
because there’s joy in it on its own

and because it carries you
farther toward 
a poem

that will come in due time if in fact
we are due time at all,

and if we are not, if we are instead on
Armageddon Road, we will at least be

traveling in style, soul full, 
and well fed.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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