I can’t hear the TV news
over the soothing static
of diced onion in the pan.
States away, children bled.
In my kitchen, oregano
and cayenne bloom over celery.
Then broth, kidney beans soaked overnight.
Basmati. An hour later,
comfort. Food.
My bowl is warm, heavy, like my son
asleep on my chest. I can’t stop
things, or start them. I can only
cook dinner, sit at table with wife
and child, and eat.
James Dickson teaches English and creative writing at Germantown High School just outside of Jackson, Mississippi. His debut collection of poems, Some Sweet Vandal, is forthcoming from Kelsay Books this summer. Find him on Twitter @SomeSweetVandal.
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