Grandfather's Kitchen       

            The kitchen is the room of complaints
            Sundays too my afternoon digresses into an uneaten meal 
            rearranging the halupki, halushki, I hate meat wrapped in cabbage
            Grandfather never eats what he's supposed to
            his kandy kakes and doom occupy a corner of the table. 
            Half past dinner he fetches me an apple from the garden, 
            and calls me dolly. I take a bite, 
            his love and my wanting to sit in the living room with him 
            are juicy and sweet.


            Corina Cook  (Click for bio.)


      


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