Simmer peanut butter and honey. Hum
the yum of flavors the way you hum her sway
in a black dress. Mince the onions
and garlic. Remember her smile
as smooth as ginger when you sauté
and salt. You spin-in cinnamon.
How sweet her lips. Curry-in
the turmeric. Spice the cayenne—alive
as the wet and wild you thrive with her.
Cardamon, cumin, cloves. Bulk them
with buttermilk before you diagonally slice
bananas. Drizzle with lemon juice.
A pinch of cinnamon. How she pinches
your places. How she corianders
your heart. Skillet the bananas
in peanut oil. Let them lose their shape.
You lose your shape, become one shape
when the two of you simmer to a boil
and pour yourselves into a bowl.
John Davis is the author of Gigs, Guard the Dead and The Reservist. His work has appeared recently in DMQ Review, Iron Horse Literary Review and Terrain.org. He lives on an island in the Salish Sea and performs in several bands. A poem of mine appeared in your magazine a few years ago.