Poem of the Week #99

Cooking Thanksgiving Dinner with My Sister

You with the vision, direct
operations, determine the proper size,
shape, and timings of things.

I with the knife, do the chopping
and paring. I check the clock,
keep the work space clean.

I’m okay taking orders.
It was different when we were little.
Then, I was the big sister

and you followed my lead.
I dressed you like a rag doll;
told you there was no Santa.

Here in the kitchen, you are reverent
about chestnuts to be peeled and cubed,
potatoes to be wedged and roasted.

Green beans, we blanch three minutes,
garlic we mince just so. I want to obey
your laws, but when you aren’t looking,

I simply cut up the orange
(without removing the membrane),
and toss it in the bowl.

Later, no one complains.
Our dinner is well-eaten. But I know
you stuck to the rules, and you know,
I broke them.


Lisa Vihos