Only the fingers on my right hand
can recall the meals I have truly relished
away from home
I confess:
maybe as retribution for that purchase,
my stomach composed ululations;
a symphony of gastric longings, of just one more
I remember the day —
it was like yesterday
when snowflakes perched on my face.
I sat (again) before my hotpot
and reimbursed myself for
a million stairs climbed
EYIMOFE-AT-LARGE
“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” – Anaïs Nin
EYIMOFE-AT-LARGE 