Sit with me in the cooking place
of youth, while the mortar awaits
tender tubers – you know the path
to a happy heart before the pestle’s
first taste of night.
Long have I savoured the open secret
of the other room, where fresh recipes
become naked delicacy before your
Majesty. Teach me the patience
of simmering oil, how quiet lips seduce
chopped chili and condiments.
As you yield like a wet tongue
and glad nose in the presence of a meal
remember the labour of every utensil
and doting hand that mould the hill.
Sit with me at the happy place of zest
and youth, on this throaty highway to Jannah,
let’s tend to it together.
This poem was published in the 10th Issue of PoeticAfrica magazine.
Please click here to download.
Read – Mary – Dalton Mwangi (Kenya)
