The following sonnet was written while attending a Faber Academy Workshop session facilitated by Jo Shapcott ("Of Mutability," Costa Book of the Year 2010) in London, England.
Getting into your pantry
I hold my breath and count to ten
to string the moment out; I get
only as far as six before
easing the door and slipping inside.
Each packet, jar and Tupperware pot
tingles at my touch and sings
through my fingers. The saffron sparkles
at the back of a dark jostling shelf.
The cardamoms, cloves and cinnamon sticks
spring from the jars, the basmati
rice shimmies to the shushing of breakers
fingering shingle on a Goan beach.
The ingredients line themselves up like a recipe
they know will induce you to stay the night.
I hold my breath and count to ten
to string the moment out; I get
only as far as six before
easing the door and slipping inside.
Each packet, jar and Tupperware pot
tingles at my touch and sings
through my fingers. The saffron sparkles
at the back of a dark jostling shelf.
The cardamoms, cloves and cinnamon sticks
spring from the jars, the basmati
rice shimmies to the shushing of breakers
fingering shingle on a Goan beach.
The ingredients line themselves up like a recipe
they know will induce you to stay the night.
(c) 2012 Poetrivia
Delicious.
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