If you don’t 
go through hell
then you’ll never 
know when heaven 
smacks you squarely 
in your kisser

Food is
and making 
of which 
is my
love language 
and the 
doing it
and the 
savoring of
same says
here eat
and let
us enjoy 
each other 

It’s in
the knowing
and not
the knowledge 
for knowing 
is now 
and knowledge 
is what 
is left 
over after 
a bellwether 
a harbinger 
a bet
that now
will be 
like then
when in
fact it
rarely is 
or it
often is 
who knows 
then knowing 

Long day
looking forward 
to night 
when light 
and it’s 
drenching bright 
is slowly 
wrung out 
the raviolis 
sit swimming 
so timidly 
in sauce 

It might just 
seem like cooking 
and cleaning and 
taking care of 
to some but 
to me they’re 
acts of priority 
and of kindness 
and the type 
of self love 
that’s only possible 
when all else 
fails so woefully