The first of three slides of a poem titled "The Chef's Wife (After Dorianne Laux)". It reads: i loved him most when he came home after twelve hours of firing at all cylinders non-slip shoes coated with oil and butter forearms splattered with dark spots that make me frown, burns he is immune to after two decades in the kitchen, rag over his shoulder shouting ‘yes, chef’ and ‘heard!’ over clanging pans, flying dishes, slamming trays, stoves and ovens roaring, broiling, sauteing, toasting, grilling controlling chaos in a mad environment i cannot ever understand or know,
i love to smell the barbeque smoke in his beard, and it is no wonder i wish to devour him, this man who is elbow deep in meals all day, i hold firm hands that have done time working the line that have diced, chopped, and butchered meat i want to loosen him, knead him, roll him out like dough be sweetness amid savory
i give him soft places to rest his head and cramped hands i soak in his kitchen with its quirks and cooks i picture him drinking water from a plastic quart container a moment of reprieve on the conga line when he is in the weeds in the middle of the dinner rush until the diehard basketball fans retreat home only after creating their celebratory feasts can he do the same when he crosses the threshold and embraces me i liken myself to that chug of water from a quart cup the quenching oasis after the kitchen’s inferno
A copy of The Shipfitter's Wife by Dorianne Laux. It reads: I loved him most when he came home from work, his fingers still curled from fitting pipe, his denim shirt ringed with sweat, smelling of salt, the drying weeds of the ocean. I’d go to where he sat on the edge of the bed, his forehead anointed with grease, his cracked hands jammed between his thighs, and unlace the steel-toed boots, stroke his ankles and calves, the pads and bones of his feet. Then I’d open his clothes and take the whole day inside me—the ship’s gray sides, the miles of copper pipe, the voice of the foreman clanging off the hull’s silver ribs. Spark of lead kissing metal. The clamp, the winch, the white fire of the torch, the whistle, and the long drive home.
Today is my 2 year wedding anniversary 💜💍💛
For our anniversary last year I wrote The Chef's Wife, after reading Dorianne Laux's poem, The Shipfitter's Wife.
You know I'm in love if I'm writing #longformpoetry 😂
#poetry #lovepoetry #anniversary #chefwife #doriannelaux
