Comfort Food

Don’t waste words
talking to me of love—
the menu full of too many options
and sauces I will never put into my mouth or body,
too much for me to remember
no matter how many times
you try to convince me
of these out of season specialties.

Today, take me to the garden
fresh with sunlight and the dew of the magical darkness
of the black moonless sky and her sister stars.
That is where I will run my hands
just above the warming earth
through tender leaves of lettuce
and the newly sprouting tendrils
of peas, beans, and feathery carrot tops.

There is no denial in this green place
where we feel the planet waking after her long sleep
under our feet as we walk side by side.
The life force moves up and stirs the appetite,
beyond hungry with this waiting
for the blossoms,
the budding fully in view
like the crown of the child
waiting for her birth.

Bring me the comfort food
of endless kisses and gazing into my eyes
as if there is nothing else you’d rather do
until it is time to caress the nape of my neck with your lips
and hold my hand to your heart.

There are no words
where this justice flows
between us and out of us
to where every other heart waits
or this kind of enlightenment.

We open the door
to the lusciousness of steaming pots
full of the saltiness
that unleashes
these simple pleasures—
fills us with nothing
other than home.