With mom spiraling towards death
and us standing around like actors
waiting for stage direction,
Zheng Wei went to work in the kitchen
...
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Michael, 'he could do nothing for her, so he made dumplings.' I hope I remembered that right. Those lines in themselves are a poem. Wow. John
Wonderful. Tapped into a shared experience. I am curious about 'a mile of knots'. Is this an afghan? Or is the metaphor deeper (immobility) ? Thanks! -chuck
I like the camaderie...the way the food was prepared reminds me of my childhood at my mom's house. Good job! !
It's lovely, Michael. Beautifully understated, and so, so universally true!
Wow, Michael....this is one of your best poems among your recent contributions. Nice job.