Lori is not religious
but she prays
as she prepares dinner
for one.

The prayer rises
on the steam
as low fires
soften vegetables.

The rice is not rice
but riced cauliflower
with coconut milk
and curry.

Lori prays
to see her
jumbled memories
through beauty.

How slumber’s
is Hermes
in one form or another.

Gabriel to satisfy
her mother
with rosary beads
rolled under fingertips.

Minus a husband
several years now
she still cooks
for two

but saves half
for tomorrow’s
brown bag lunch
taken to work.

copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney

Dinner Out

Needle sized fish bones
take shapes on a plate.
I rearrange them again and again
as they accumulate.

The sun on my cheeks
makes it hard for Dora to tell
if I have consumed too much wine.

A nearby Buddhist practices emptiness
while she fills the vessel of her body.

October has such a righteous scent of decay.

My fish came from an ocean whose floor
it would only visit in death, if then.

Dora comments that today’s hospital gown
was onion skin thin
with an unpleasant texture.

Unhurried, my knife separates
peppered garlic butter broccoli florets
so they may astonish my tongue
one at a time.

copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney