18 April 2009

p.a.d. day six


I didn’t know how much I would miss the scent of
bay leaf wafting from the kitchen,
rolling through the living room
and settling over couches and coffee table.

I didn’t fully appreciate the comfort of
pungent cinnamon,
prized quills of antiquity,
both sacred and erotic.

I didn’t miss you until I dressed
the salad, until I saw
the flakes fall from my fingers,
little flecks of white
settling on chunks of bread,
dusting the bright green basil,
clinging to the tomato
like a long lost friend.

Christina Hile

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