Cooking in Yesterday’s Rain

Simple tasks against the rain,

Kitchen things I do again,

How washing soap and chopping fine

Deepen my thoughts beyond this time

Of mind, just flow as I look down and find

My hands at work, mine and mine and

Humming is the passage ship

One garlic coin for your boiling trip, my swollen lip;

I swear, there’s pitter patter on the pane,

Or was that yesterday? she claimed

She knew her footing strong and sane,

From sturdy thighs to brain, but the rain

The rain it never came tonight,

That rhythm came from your moonlight,

These hands I thought I knew were mine,

By me you cooked behind, these thighs of wine,

And silence is a two-fold sign,

This meal of mine and then of thine.