Recipe Poems

A Conjuring by A Conjuring

Grandmother's Bread by Wilda Morris

Raspberry Mousse; or, Wherein I Unwittingly Assist My Ex-husband, Who, On Behalf of our Son, Prepares My Mother's Day Dessert by Joanie DiMartino

Deconstructing Chicken by Adina Cassal

Collage by Lisa Mase

Foraging by Carolyn Wells

The Baker by Janine Certo

A Poem That Wants to Call Itself a Recipe by Jax Peters Lowell

Corn Chowder by Penny Baert Zywusko

Kugel by Sharon Lask Munson

Muffin of the Morning by James B. Nicola

simplicity by Lois Baer Barr

Recipe for Disaster by Jonathan Pacic

Affogato by Lettie

Fall Harvest by Holly Mitchell

The Apple by Kerry Ruef

Brunswick Stew by Lyle Estill

Two Poems by Brenda Butka

Bread by Eva Szabo

Squash Blossoms by Allison Wilkins

Our Table by Joan Seliger Sidney

Recipe for Spaghetti all'Amatriciana by Georganne Harmon

The Agony of the Leaves by Gail Bellamy

Greens by Paulette Licitra

Strudel by Eva Szabo

The Almost Adulterer's Guide to Menu Planning by Michele Battiste

The Pie Series by David Colagiovanni, Melissa Haviland, and Becca J.R. Lachman

Midsummer's Night's Spaghetti with Saffron by Johannes Berchtold

A Cannibal's Suicide by Dean Kostos

From the Garden by Nancy Vienneau

orang slizez jell o shotz by Amy Stetzl

Phở bò Hà Nội by Kelly Morse

Cooking Class, Marrakesh by Georganne Harmon

Spread Triolet by Dana Stamps

The Things Kids Eat by Paulette Licitra

Maybe This Year by Esther Cohen

Braociole by Joseph Bathanti

Basque Cooking by Richard Hedderman

Two Poems by Adrienne Christian

Jailhouse Crack by Harlan Richards

Cinnamon Sticks by Wally Swist

Best of Both by Nancy Vienneau

The Baker

by Janine Certo

June 2015    


My mother wants to go to Greece.
I’d like to take her, but not to find

him-- as if he’d even be there,
wearing a nametag Father, out eating

fig, honey and olive
on a terrace by the Oleander.

He owned the bakery in town.
He saw her once in the street.

He knew.

If two hands held the earth
in a teaspoon-sized dough ball,

rolled it into a Russian tea cake
or pressed down

to a thumbprint, contemplating
flattening it out, could one glimpse

of her chasing a turquoise
ball on Butler Street; preparing

a valedictorian speech; giving
a man CPR; lighting

a candle; looking up
from her crossword; or even

clipping peonies from her yard,
what would it take----

I don’t think of Greece much.
I watch my mother

bake bread, rolls, pies and cake; cut out her
thirty-four kinds of cookies each winter,

and I wonder: when he turned
the sign to Closed, when the blinds

were shut, did he ever sit at a table,
hands still floured, and think
daughter?

 



  Janine Certo is associate professor of language and literacy at Michigan State University. Her poems have appeared in in Journal of Literacy and Language Education, Burningword Literary Journal, Main Street Rag, Vox Poetica, Muddy River Poetry Review, The Endicott Review and Illya's Honey. Visit her website.