Cooking for One
I rediscover omelettes
and become a fan
tastes better with harissa.
Langoustines were a labour
I’d rather do for love
although I’ve kept their claws frozen
with respect for that woman in my past
who would have cooked the stock and made the bisque.
It’s true I miss my oven like a lover
linger in the cook book section
and cruise the kitchenware at BHV –
Le Crueset reduced for summer
and all those knives.
There’s barely space to chop
in the closet that is my kitchen
and no room in my bed for anyone but me.
When you come over, we’ll have to start from scratch
as though teenagers again, holding the recipe open
with a nervous, bloodied finger
while we check ingredients
and recite the method like a prayer.
Catherine Bateson, July 2013
Head over to the Tuesday Poem blog to get your double-serve of poems! This week the guest curated poem is by Australian poet, Robert Gray, curated by Jennifer Compton.