the leeks smelled like springtime
as i sliced them into rings
and slid them into the puddle
of butter in the saucepan
to make magic with the onions.
sometimes i picture you
at your stove, occupied
with a bubbling pot, pausing
for a taste and a thought
before reaching for more
chili powder, more pepper,
more of that secret ingredient
that only you can identify
once it marries with the
sauce and spices. but then
i’ve never seen your stove,
so it is actually mine i see you
standing before, rummaging through
my spice cabinet in pursuit
of that one essential vial
that has of course been
pushed all the way to the back;
the garlic powder and nutmeg
will fall out any second now
and crash down to the counter.
you will jump and i will laugh
and say “don’t worry, i always
do that too” (which is true).
in the present tense, i reach
into the cabinet for the dill,
and another heady whiff of spring
rises from the pot as the herb
meets the leeks and cream.
is it too much to wonder if,
somewhere in the world, you
are standing in front of your
own stove, stirring up dreams?
