Mihir Bellamkonda
Image by Malidate Van from Pexels
The Dinner Party
First the garlic in shimmering oil, then
the sweet onion,
the alchemy of browning,
to feed, to sustain.
Then the act itself,
consumption. The guests
stretch their legs and talk
of inconsequential pleasures.
They walk the cracking path.
The cicadas make a counterpoint
to the low music of the moon.
The guests return for whiskey,
water, cake. Once the old rites are finished,
the question floats in the air like
the scent of spring beginning: what now?
An old man flips a coin through his knuckles.
A child begs: teach me, teach me.
Teach me, what is it to love the unholding center, teach me,
what is it to lay tradition's head gentle in your lap?
The recipe always ends to taste.
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Mihir Bellamkonda is an emerging poet based in Washington, DC.
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