Michael Diehl, Birds
Found in the wooden recipe box
Adelaide’s Lemon Pie from Sister’s
grated rind 1 lemon . . .
oh! sweet-sour bright
on the tongue, and so light, like its colour
pale yellow colour of melting taste
in my mother’s backhand lineage
on a lined card flavour
tabled in childhood’s kitchen tart leap
how we are
startled back to ourselves
lost
puzzle piece brightened gather
once-worn time
though
this card’s sheen, seen —
once seen, will fade
(save
the Apple Cake, with torn corner,
for another day)
our shifting
dissolving re-
appearing lights
or garments
put on
this matrilineal garb today,
aprons and ovens, sun through philodendron round a window,
shoelace cord for the ceiling light,
lace tablecloth for a party
the patron saints of kitchen,
cooks, housewives, bakers, Saint Martha,
hovering,
wearing my grandmother’s rickrack-trimmed apron,
bending
to the pilot light of my mother’s quirky oven
_____________
Sue Chenette
Review by Dave Mehler
I love how this poet, as well as others I have admired, can find significance and call forth poetry from the most mundane subject matter, as in this set, a trio of domestic issues such as laundry, kitchen counters and a recipe box, but transcending that through the utilization of language and diving deeper below the surface of things. In this poem it’s to remember all the family that created those recipes and served others in the making of delicious food at the heart of a home.