The Cook

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

What is this chef, this cook
that comes to gather
strung out, grumbling
friends and relatives?
 
Is she not a mere merchant
of the kitchen?
An employee of a restaurant?
 
But no, I think.
A magician or alchemist,
one who binds up the disgruntled
by cooking magic.
 
Her creations stir in
the hearts of these people
a language of love
they had never felt before,
or ever will again.
 
Why, these two are speaking
when they haven’t for years.
 
I think it must have been
that rare French wine, or,
perhaps that unusual, roasted
animal from the forest.

7 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

7 responses to “The Cook

  1. A magician who has found a recipe for the food of love?

  2. That’s enchanting, Ethel. And closely observed, I suspect.

  3. Kathy Isaacson

    Ethel, I am enthralled with both “The Cook” and “The Old Man and Woman talk about wisdom.” In “The Cook” I see something I have known and loved for so long: the power of food and cooking to convene people despite their differences. I may have to use this poem in one of my classes. And then to ponder wisdom coming from light, from Owl’s wings. So satisfying to me. Thanks so much, you dear one.

  4. A magical poem, Ethel. And beautifully written, as always.

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