Performance poet Ellen Thea reads her award-winning poem,
Cooking Lesson, and a poem titled Full Moon Dance.
Fragrant subtlety,
aromatic nuance.
I want to savor each delectable step
of this meandering journey with you.
A hint of this,
a splash of that,
Sprinkle the spices generously, delicately,
we simmer, low burn,
the occasional stir here and there.
scorching this dish will never do.
Too soon, too often
checking a souffle,
the wishful blooming.
But oh how I dream
that our peripherally watched
unwatched pot
will soon boil over,
riotous, tumultuous bubbles,
steam rising,
our cake will be baked
and I’ll lick the icing
off your fingers.
Cooking Lesson, by Ellen Thea
—————————————
full moon dance
i hold my breath. the wonderment of this. your declarative moment,
etched in infinite eternity.
your gaze awe-whelmed.
i’ve never seen such a face before.
shining,
reflecting the reflection of the full moon’s radiance.
my lips, pressed against your heart.
the rhythmic butterfly pulsations.
a distant melody unchained.
the joy of the moment of scarcely dared wished for dreams.
grandmother moon
rejoices at the instant of ignition.
the inevitable meeting at the crossroads.
satisfied now,
she dances.
and we feast on her roundness.
i want to feast on
your banquet.
dive into depths of vaguely remembered
lifetimes, glimpsed.
from the moment of beginning,
we agreed
on this journey’s way
of should be timing.
the prearranged destination of this dance,
conclusions foregone.
we’ve tumbled over the waterfall,
crystal rapids
sweep us away.
no escape, none desired,
my knees are water.
we dangle by a thread of
the fabric of a moment,
woven by the muse in time.
