How I See You

By
Jonathan B. Aibel
-

By the sound of rain, the taste
of air rising from the stove,
the clapping of flashing knife
splitting a tearful onion,
by cutting, by burning, scent
of olive oil welcoming white
slices tanning and sweetening,
creak of chairs, clink of plates,
eating, steam, years.



Click here to read Jonathan B. Aibel on the origin of the poem.

Image by Justus Menke on pexels.com, licensed under CC 2.0.

Jonathan B. Aibel:

There are plenty of poems about falling, falling in love, I mean, but how many poems tell about a relationship that has lasted, the work, the pains, the rewards over the years? On my own, I could boil rice, cook basic meals, good enough to impress dates. But early in our marriage, I learned that all good meals start by sautéing an onion.

The knife has to be sharp, and in any case, the onion will sting and draw tears. And the pan is hot, the oil – hopefully a good olive oil – can splatter and burn. Put the onion into the oil at a low heat, and it becomes over time translucent, admitting light to its heart, and caramelizes to sweetness. This makes a fine metaphor for a marriage, the two of you simmering, being revealed, the sharp and the sweet.

This poem is for my wife, a poem about seeing with sounds, tastes, and scents.

Jonathan B. Aibel
Latest posts by Jonathan B. Aibel (see all)

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.