There are no Spoons in my kitchen
There are no spoons in my kitchen.
We cleanse our hands
of the black dirt,
washing away the skin.
When we eat,
hands feed the tongue,
sucking sweet marrow
from the legs of the quivering goat.
Hands dig out yams,
wipe the sand off its skin,
and hold the knife that breaks
it into white chunks.
The hand greets
heat, leaping out
of soups, flowing
with pink garlic strips.
When we eat,
we talk with our lips,
swallow with our tongue,
taste with our hands.
Obviously, there are many spoons in my kitchen but I prefer to eat with my hands. I think you waste less of the food when you eat with your hands. Eating with your hands does not mean you are"uncivilized or incapable of using a spoon, it just means you are connected more to the food. So I wrote a poem that allowed to reason out loud and share with the rest of my class..culture/ethics/life.
We need to go grocery shopping together for spoons lol. Just kidding. I love to eat with my hands too (obviously) and you know what I dont really understand when integrating with the American culture? Eating rice with forks. Its weird. I only eat rice with spoons! Oh well. You learn to adapt.
ReplyDeleteI understand. Interestingly, we do learn to adapt but nothing beats eating with your hands.
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