A Recipe of Sorts
Preheat the oven to three-seventy-five
and oil the pan. Stretch the pizza dough
with the heft of your hands–
a mandala of sorts. Fill the holes
with dough from the thickest parts–
here, the kitchen smells like yeast–
then dock & prebake for just enough time
to chop half a shallot, to prepare
the sauce and toppings for dispersal.
In six minutes, spoon the sauce
like your mother taught, spreading
concentric circles from its middle.
Sprinkle herbs. Toss the cheese.
Top the pizza with the veggies, meat–
however you please–it’ll be just fine
in another fifteen minutes, reliable
when so many other things just
aren’t.
8 thoughts on "A Recipe of Sorts"
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This made me hungry! Feel free to come use my oven to demonstrate this poem any old time.
This poem sticks the landing! Also, I love the idea of pizza being “a mandala of sorts.”
The perfect poem to go with all the delicious-looking pics you have posted on FB! I like the mandala image as well.
in another fifteen minutes, reliable
when so many other things just
aren’t.
Love those last lines! You move us from a specific subject to the rest of the world.
Agree with comments above! A great food metaphor poem!
Powerful last word, and love the idea of pizza as a mandala!
Love the mandala & concentric circle imagery and the beautifully understated “like your mother taught.”
Love how you ‘made’ this poem! Agree with comments above. Well landed with ‘aren’t. ‘