We are the diagram of memory
pointed and filled by the days; DNA helix fueled by Dutch babies
our grandmother baked, rising like fairy tales
in the oil, in the iron casket on the stove--
Witch light, gas light, butter, dough, sugar.
She called me Marie,
gave me the several towers, tall, thin, topped by gold;
they flake into crumbs under my fingers.
I slide down gold bent from thunderclouds--
Witch light, gas light, butter, dough, sugar.
I run from her kitchen, free
On the bones she gave me; my own grand witch, still cooking.
Grandmother, namesake Marie,
stove flickering as she cooked castles--
Witch light, gas light, butter, dough, sugar.
Cross posting with The Sunday Muse (Muse #8) and Poets United (Poetry Pantry #406). I have been reading far too many fairy tale books lately. And, as the tales might be told, finding myself entirely too food-motivated while reading. :) Wishing you a lovely week filled with the best kind of fairy pastries--real, remembered, and read.
-- Chrissa
Oh! How I LOVE that grandmother rising like fairy tales, and the witch light. My grandma was a great storyteller too. And a good cook! This drew me right in. Grandmas DO give us the bones that carry us the rest of the way. They are magic, like that. I cant tell you how much I enjoy your writing style and love this poem!!!!!!!!
ReplyDeletethanks :) My grandmother always treated her kitchen like her own province of the house--you were there by the grace of grandma & fortunate if she was cooking. :)
Deletep.s. Glad you found Poets United. I hope you keep coming back.
ReplyDeleteWow! Different (to me), and delightful sur-real image of Love
ReplyDelete"...stove flickering as she cooked castles--
Witch light, gas light, butter, dough, sugar.
I, also am glad to meet you.
ZQ
Love this... to find yourself in the DNA and in those old recipes, I love the focus on how it feels to bake.
ReplyDeleteFor me this is quite intriguing, which for me, makes it a most enjoyable read.
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautifully eloquent!
ReplyDeleteExcellent--I see the gingerbread Man and more--nursury rhymes and fairy tales, childhood memories with love as refrain.
ReplyDeleteThis is really beautiful and it reminded me of an aunt of mine that loved me going round to see her when I was about 9 and would welcome me whether she was cooking or getting me help hang out the washing as she had no children of her own.
ReplyDeleteLove the aroma of grandmother as well as what she did...
ReplyDeleteDelightful from beginning to end with all the repetitions!
ReplyDeleteMagical and beautiful C! I love the feel flow, and warmth that flows from this poem. A legacy of true nurturing passed on. I love this!
ReplyDeleteI love it. It's like a jump rope chant met a fairy tale and had this for a kid.
ReplyDelete:) Love that idea
DeleteAn absolutely delightful tale! Keep reading fairy-tales and being motivated by food ... and remembering Grandmother.
ReplyDelete