When I welcome you into my house / the carpet vacuumed only seconds before / When I pour you a glass of Prosecco / When my son slices mozzarella for his Caprese salad from tomatoes we grew / the basil from the garden / When my daughter sautés tomatoes / with pine nuts and mint / Watching her slop red gravy from hot pot to dish is a lesson in grace / in forgiveness / in “that’s OK, we’ll clean it up later” / When I make a J with my pinky to taste what remains / When you test a bit of crab cake / held together by breadcrumbs and egg / transformed to become otherworldly / uncertainty is the flip side of hope / When I set the roasted green beans in a bone-white bowl / When we take our seats around the crowded table / and face each other / the mismatched plates / the still water / the napkins unfolded / the chatter quiets / When we read Joy Harjo’s poem “Perhaps the World Ends Here”/ it is grace / listen / this food is blessed by your presence / When we break bread / together / perhaps the world begins here / begins again / which is no small thing
