Ingredients
Went through, turned, looked back.
Is this paper? A scene? Are they kissing?
In profile, perfect, nose to lip to chin.
But not an image, not photography.
I rest my case; my case
is resting, like dough. I
went through hoping to greet you
on the dark side. Moon?
Hello, I might have called into the sky.
Hello? It might have been a question.
What is this word, hello? It holds
some dark companions, some
poor ingredients. I speak at times
of a poem’s ingredients, as if I were
making a pie. What would Paul
Hollywood make of my poem-pie?
He would say, I’m not getting it, the it
being a flavor I said I had added
but did not come through; the crust
underproved. Prue is kinder.
She compliments verisimilitude
and the sweet decorative touches
essential to taste. What shall I make
today? I am going to the market
to get some eggs, some milk.
I will see what is fresh: blueberries, rue.
Notes:
This piece is part of the portfolio “How It Continues to Astonish: The Poetry of Ann Lauterbach.” You can read the rest of the portfolio in the March 2023 issue. All poems are from Door by Ann Lauterbach, published by Penguin, and printed here with the permission of the author.
Source: Poetry (March 2023)