And so it begins,
Rinsing away the calamity and replacing it with calm
Slipping into something more comfortable, hanging up coats and rolling out shoulders
Temporarily forgetting about the nine to five
Dancing with the idea of a glass of wine
The kitchen is familiar territory
Where in each home, the cutlery is kept in the same top drawer and the glassware hides up high in the shelves
There’s far too many mugs behind the worn wooden cabinets and a fridge overwhelmed with memories made in postcards and travel magnets
It’s a place where bodies move gracefully between sugar and spice,
Peppering kisses with cinnamon and clove and rolling out pastry with retired beer bottles.
This collected intimacy,
Arranged in knives and forks
Dusted in flour
and drenched in olive oil
Is our language, between friends and lovers.
I’ll admit that I enjoy the prelude, the conversation and the preparation
Far more than I do sitting around the dining room table
Although it’s all well to be sat, full bellied under candle light
I much prefer when were balancing flavours barefoot on the green laminate floors,
When we’re moving pots and pans, whilst you play me that something you’ve been meaning to show me.
I rather like when your hands are busy yet your mind speaks vividly
Of the things that have been a burden on your chest
creating a bite sized morsels that reveals catharsis,
soothing you in butter, rosemary fade.
Welcome to my abode,
a place of cooking
colliding colours on plates
place a wine in your hand, leave your lipstick on the rim
You do the cooking, I’ll dry the dishes.
You know where the plates go at the end.