Deep Water

Deep Water

Old rhythms persist—

I wash, and she dries dishes

After meals turned silent

By stillborn thoughts.


I am a visitor in mother’s kitchen

Where clutter and restraint sit side by side,

Pots stored on stove burners,

Pans stacked neatly in the oven

While cups and bowls scatter

Across green linoleum counters.


With each visit, she lures me in deep

When she sets fresh ahi on the table,

Translucent slices shimmer in hot tea and rice,

Each gulp rushes the sea to our gullets

And promises a safe voyage and return.

Talk story

  1. Fred Peyer says:

    Joy, I love it! Reminds me so much of my own visits back home.

  2. Joy Gold says:

    Thank you, Fred. I appreciate your feedback.

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