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Great Rack . . .
by Francine DuBois

he fingers the carved cherry wood,
appreciating the depth of the cabinet,
the spaciousness provided for herbs and spices.

saffron, sage, savory . . .
he didn't know what they tasted like,
but he was glad she kept them around.
he hadn't seen a recipe beyond
the old boston bartender's book he got
from an waitress girlfriend back in '96.

sizzling sounds of hamburger beckoned his attention
back to the stove where she was flipping meat in the air.
he gazed at her: could he have ever been in this much love before?

her black hair hid her face and the tears
she was blaming on onions. she thought it a bit unfair
that he demanded both dinner and sex tonight:
all she wanted was cereal and a hot bath.

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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