A Matter of Gathering

as most things do, it begins with a gathering of matter:

peppercorn, shallot, potato, carrot.

but first, the meat must reach room temperature.

.

Opa stoops in a garden of spent brass

snipping at asparagus that tries in vain

each season to reach the window sill.

.

Ima would tell me after his death

how he kept a loaded gun in every room

and how many lengths of leather

.

she and her sisters measured

across the thighs of their childhood

and how the stone of his b’nai brith ring

.

had shone on his right hand

when it curled in on itself

like a dying spider.

.

He married Oma not long after his final bow

in the pacific theater and she began licking

envelopes for j walter thompson & sons

.

she kept a good tongue and drew enough blood

at the bridge table to keep an icebox stocked

with enough cream soda for three generations.

.

she lifts cousin Jacob onto her lap

and together they bend emerald spears end-to-end

like carnival strongmen until

.

-snap-

.

The pesach brisket was so tender

and everyone was sweet on my shikse.

while nieces rolled their sleeves over the sink

.

and Opa led the wildlings

pop can shooting under a canopy

of Chinese bottlebrush

.

We were in the bathroom

fucking on Oma’s porcelain sink.

I remember the muffled voices

of goodbyes and promises

to return soon, just outside.

They widened our eyes

and curled the ends of our lips

into fishing hooks. I lit a match to douse

the tang of sweat and rotting lace.