Bright Morning, and: The Task, and: Ars Poetica: Cooking

Bright Morning

For Abigail Jean Hoenig Ostriker

On her bat mitzvah

A girl stands in a doorwaywhat a bright morning what fresh aireverything underground is pushing up

The girl walks down the street with her nose in a bookwhat a bright morningshe knows she herself is the bookshe is learning to read

The letters are magicthe letters are holythe letters are fire and waterwhat a bright morning

O if we could speakwhat a bright morningO if our accumulated wisdomwere a magic ring she could rub or wings to fly

The girl would still smile to herselfthe girl would smile to herself and walk forwardher secrets are holywhat a bright morning this is

The Task

It is not incumbent on you to finish the task. Neither are you free

to give it up.

—Pirke Avot

Get a move onit saysevery year,

day, hour, minutekeep going, keepingup the good work, go on with

your task, itnever stops reminding mehow badly I am doing it*

I have to straighten outmy love life firstget that on an even keel

I say, but it saysdon't fool yourself

love lives never getstraightened out

they are by nature crookedget back to workyou don't have forever*Live to you now from thehypothalamus

here it comes againold drone

at the base of my skullsays listen to me womanyou are nothing

but dustand the wounded worldis still in your hands

You know the fine old Yiddish word potchke?Meaning something like mess aroundor fiddle around? In a nice way?

You know how I like to potchke aroundin the kitchen? Without a recipe?Stirring? Salting and peppering,

Adding wine, adding a little more wine?Adding a few more herbs? Maybe mushrooms?Maybe capers? Like that. Mm.