The Hungry Philosopher

Reads, Writes, Eats and Cooks

Food Poem- In a Kitchen Where Mushrooms Were Washed (Jane Hirshfield)

In a kitchen where mushrooms were washed,

the mushroom scent lingers.

As the sea must keep for a long time the scent of the whale.

As a person who’s once loved completely,
a country once conquered,
does not release that stunned knowledge.

They must want to be found, those strange-shaped, rising morels,
clownish puffballs.

Lichens have served as a lamp-wick.
Clean-burning coconuts, olives.
Dried salmon, sheep fat, a carcass of petrel set blazing:
light that is fume and abradement.

Unburnable mushrooms are other.
They darken the air they come into.

Theirs the scent of having been traveled, been taken.

“In A Kitchen Where Mushrooms Were Washed” by Jane Hirshfield from The Beauty. © Knopf, 2015. From the Writer’s Almanac, May 29th.  http://writersalmanac.org/page/5/

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About lsbanu

I cook, eat, read and write.

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This entry was posted on June 2, 2015 by in Food Writing, Literature and tagged , , .
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