Today

A 2024 publication roundup

A thousand thank you’s to Patricia, Annie, and Katherine at West Trestle Review for not only publishing this poem, but also nominating it for a Best of the Net.

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Today

avocados exist.
Bananas, rambutan, four kinds of
carrots can be found at the city market.
Delight is baked into
every meal — chicken spatchcocked and
fennel-stuffed, french fries covered in a flaky salt,
gelato, a slice of greasy pepperoni drizzled in
hot honey. Today, this city is alive. Today,
I am alive.
Jalapeño burns my lips, but I can’t stop. In the
kitchen, I scrub potatoes, carrots,
leeks — roast them in golden globs of butter. I
marvel at the magic of seeds. I am taking
notes, remembering all the meals I possibly can —
oysters on the halfshell on my honeymoon,
peaches grilled and served with ice cream; a bowl I
quickly licked clean. I can’t stop. I
replay them again — smoked
salmon on Vancouver Island,
tea-poached pears in the middle of winter, the
ugly plums picked from our ugly tree. But it is all
vanishing. Oysters bake on the beaches,
watermelons wither. Scientists grow cherries to be
xerothermic. Whole states go up in
yearly flames. When my kids ask, I want to say I remember what
zest tasted like.