Founded in the fall of 1991, Laurel Moon is Brandeis' oldest, national literary publication. Each issue we publish features original work from undergraduate students.
I
Cooking in a kitchen like ours
has always been a violent act.
You bat black gnats around the bananas,
which we keep with the bruised apples.
It makes them ripen faster.
You know all about that.
You know the hissing gas leak from the stove.
How it smelled like fire without flame.
The sour rot in the kitchen.
You know all about that.
II
We keep the recipe simple
in a kitchen like ours.
You buy the garlic
and I’ll bring the bright peppers.
Together we make a great green sofrito.
You know all about that.
The smell of family is more
than dead men’s cologne.
The sour rot in the kitchen.
You know all about that.
III
The kitchen is a sacred place
in this house.
No nonsense, real cooking.
Some knife pointing.
Keeping the fighting out of the kitchen.
You know all about that.
The reason you got rid of all the glass cups,
poured out the whiskey glass.
The sour rot in your kitchen.
You know all about that.
IV
The kitchen will be a battlespace
in my house too, I fear.
I will have gnats, mice,
bananas that ripen too quick, men.
I’ll call you, missing full cabinets, missing that sofrito.
You know all about that.
You will bring me garlic and peppers.
A chipped red pot and a cast sauté pan.
The yellowing sour rot rubs itself into my clothes.
You know all about that.