The Hungry Philosopher

Reads, Writes, Eats and Cooks

Food Poem-Everybody Made Soups by Lisa Coffman

After it all, the events of the holidays,

the dinner tables passing like great ships,
everybody made soups for a while.
Cooked and cooked until the broth kept
the story of the onion, the weeping meat.
It was over, the year was spent, the new one
had yet to make its demands on us,
each day lay in the dark like a folded letter.
Then out of it all we made one final thing
out of the bounty that had not always filled us,
out of the ruined cathedral carcass of the turkey,
the limp celery chopped back into plenty,
the fish head, the spine. Out of the rejected,
the passed over, never the object of love.
It was as if all the pageantry had been for this:
the quiet after, the simmered light,
the soothing shapes our mouths made as we tasted.

“Everybody Made Soups” by Lisa Coffman from Less Obvious Gods. © Iris Press, 2013.

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About lsbanu

I cook, eat, read and write.

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This entry was posted on January 18, 2016 by in Food Writing, Literature and tagged , , , , , .
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