Second poem L'Chaim! for Thursday January 30 2025 Jill

[jill stockinger]

Jill Stockinger

 

L'Chaim!

My spine sags like a marionette

whose strings were cut.

My hands tremble

against my will.

My face is crumpled

like dirty laundry in a pile;

I can barely see or hear.

 

Salt and pepper on my food

no longer add the notes

I used to savor;

tablespoons of turmeric,

deep orange curry and lemon slices

zest this meatless version

of Persian khoresh–onions,

tomato, celery, mushrooms,

peas and parsley, mixed

with baby yellow potatoes

–but I hardly taste the flavor.

 

I serve this meal to friends,

strawberry tarts with flaky crusts

waiting in the wings,

pass round the wine

and give a cheer

to them, to life, to everything!

Jazzed I'm  here.