New Joint Ft Twenty Fingers Fala Download
Fajar Roux
slides down into my body, soft
lambs wool, what everybody
in school is wearing, and for me
to have it my mother worked twenty
hours at the fast-food joint.
The sweater fits like a lover,
sleeves snug, thin on the waist.
As I run my fingers through the knit,
I see my mother over the hot oil in the fryers
dipping a strainer full of stringed potatoes.
In a twenty hour period my mother waits
on hundreds of customers: she pushes
each order under ninety seconds, slaps
the refried beans she mashed during prep time,
the lull before rush hours, onto steamed tortillas,
the room's pressing heat melting her make-up.
Every clean strand of weave becomes a question.
How many burritos can one make in a continuous day?
How many pounds of onions, lettuce and tomatoes
pass through the slicer? How do her wrists
sustain the scraping, lifting and flipping
of meat patties? And twenty
Falafel is a big deal in New York City. So far, though, the only falafel I seemed to find was the Palestinian/Israeli version. I have yet to find a falafel cart/stand/joint that makes Egyptian-style falafel. Maybe it has something to do with the aversion some of us have to the mention of fava beans. We all know that Silence of the Lambs turned us off from all things fava-related. But, I think there needs to be a resurgence. Call me a fava activist, or something.
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