my
father’s
kitchen
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penn appĂŠtit
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BY SHAY E RO S EMAN PHOTO BY M A X WANG
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at
We storm back triumphant Tracking mud caked bare feet leaving marks Through the house our mother would Have a fit over later Brother and I Both black in the face between the sun And the dirt and the honeysuckle We lay our spoils bare on the counter Proud of what we have wrested from the earth Carrots turnips tomatoes plum-ripe and radicchio My father presiding knife in hand In the slant summer sunlight He needs glasses to read now But never in picking out an unripe tomato He raises one hand with gold band high Over okra and garlic scape And steel glinting slices into our jewel fruit We hold our eager fingers back Until he is through And with filthy hands pick The choicest from the cutting board Before they reach the plate
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