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Elizabeth Weir
lives in Minnesota, was a 2005 SASE/Jerome award
winner and her poetry has appeared in Main Channel
Voices,
Water~Stone, Review, Alimentum and Out of Line Press.
Kitchen Alchemy
I set my wooden spoon to dance among onions
and admire the way its busy hips flare
into the shallow belly of its bowl. This spoon
and I wear the mark of common years.
Together, we have braised kilos of raw beef,
basket-loads of mushrooms—whole fields of onions.
We are nicked and stained with the soil
of constant cooking. We stir full-bodied
Burgundy into red currant sauce. We spike
dull gravies with rum and sherry. Our
horseradish makes a cool cucumber hot.
Chili gingers our fibers. We bind
butter and eggs into velvet Béarnaise.
At our touch, a custard thickens.
Peapods glisten bright green.
Raw chicken turns gold. We make
the tough, tender. We change
skinny boys into men. We keep
a man constant, held by the sorcery
within our seasoned bowls.