Dream Chef
he travels by sea, by land
with the taste of
this night conjurer
who comes to cook for me.
loose top, loose shoes.
recipes in cursive
scribble his pants.
skillet in hand,
wok on the flame
he fills the kitchen
with seeds, greens, bulbs
roots and oils.
he serves a dish
so rich in East
my mouth’s an aroma cave.
I lick fingers
and hug this giant
who feeds me such cuisine.
I rest my cheek
against his ribs, his heart.
my arms embrace
this dream god’s roundedness.
I hear food music from within.
17 April 2003