Stirring Sauce
 

My grandmother was always patient;
she'd stir and stir until the onions
fattened, until the scent of clove
steeped like loose leaves. I remember
her kitchen, small as a teacup, carrying
pots stained with puttanesca, marinara,
béchamel. You could tell time
by them, those sturdy kettles that measured
the years like tree-rings, the browns
and reds wrapping themselves within
the pots' open mouth.

She said a woman is only as wise
as her pots, but my wooden spoons
are still the color of bread, and my sauce
leaps from the pan like love.  

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I am a recent graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Parkside where I received a BA in English with a writing concentration. Currently, I am preparing for a graduate program in Milwaukee and hope to begin study in the fall of 2008. I live and work in Wisconsin. I have a beautiful, energetic little boy named Uriah and a fiancé named Sam—both the loves of my life. My poems have previously appeared or are forthcoming in Eclectica, Lily, The Potomac, Stirring & Shakespeare’s Monkey Review.
E-mail:ebruno2 at wi dot rr dot com  

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autumn 2007 | kaleidowhirl
books and chapbooks from authors in this issue