A Marriage (a poem)

poem by Kym Silvasy-Neale, copyright 2017


there is an art to avoidance

& most evenings excuses come easily

until exotic smells of a home cooked meal

seep between the party wall

pushing me towards the kitchen

to confront

empty shelves

I muster up the courage,

muster up

a hodgepodge of ingredients….

….none of these will work.

I read the cracked spines of my cooking porn: a shelf of instruction

a dog earned, smearless

wish list of who I want to be—

I want to be a person who cooks

I want to mise en place

display my Wustof knives, sous vide in my

Le Creuset        hand squeeze Myer lemons until my age spots disappear


Generations of aproned women behind me

their hard worked hands on hips       tisk-tisk

somewhere, out there, as if to say

For God Sake Girl, Put dinner on the table!

But I’d rather order out

free up time for


served up

all over our bodies, heat building

friction &

sweat &


pulling us out of the rabbit hole of avoidance

to touch

to kiss


eyes open, looking into each other

He’s behind me now      asking

what’s for dinner

I shrug


a cookbook off the shelf

open the covers, splayed on the kitchen counter

wet fingers point:

“An omelet for two”

a smile.


we stand, in our cramped, cluttered kitchen

a team

sweating in the summer heat

both of us hungry

we work

to sate our appetites

—a marriage