A post-Rosh Hashanah poem

AFTER ROSH HASHANAH

I empty the mother jar

measure flour and water

cover the bowl

with a dishtowel tallit

browse the fridge

for one wilted celery

and a faded fennel bulb,

today's wholeness offering

soon uneven dice hiss

their comforting song

as the freezer yields

what it's been withholding

this is how I return

after days of aching ankles

and a heart cracked open

from overuse

stir the unctuous richness

of the holiday now over

match it with pepper

make up the recipe as I go

there's no time

for sourdough's spaciousness;

and how can I cook

when I'm empty as a shofar?

but I feed my own hunger

by turning sad odds and ends

into something fragrant

and sustaining

 

 

This is an early draft of a new poem. I suspect that in a week or two or six I'll see ways of improving it. But for now, I wanted to share it.

All feedback welcome, as always.