(6) I am surprised to find I still crave tastes that last touched my tongue decades ago: I remember a night of thunderstorms when the power went out, and you opened a jar of fermented rice and fish which we ate with our hands. I am surprised to realize I know the recipe for a thing like this, though I myself have never made it. Sometimes all you want is the bite of vinegar and the sting of salt against a sheet of starch; water afterwards can taste like clean absolution. Once, someone taught me how to tell amaranth from asparagus, lemongrass from millet, mint from verbena; dandelion sun from head of tufted wishes.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
