a tongue is only a portal to the world
by Anna Lin
The guest is always an incarnation of God.
— Chef’s Table
The dinner table is always one. There are no backs
turned to each other.
In the center lies the
spirit of the night.
Colors have never been so true. The belief of
creation with love, the fulfilled expectation of the
first eye-widening swallow, moves mouths.
Hands reach
in
out
across
over
to scoop, to take, to enjoy. In consumption comes
an understanding.
From the far away kitchen
the chef says come come again
come seek with your companions
that joy linking mouth and heart.
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