Making Luxury Out of Flat Soda

I learned to breathe in my grandmother’s kitchen
despite life sitting on my chest.
Scent of cast-iron skillet seasoned by sunrises
and ancestors’ touch. Gospels of sizzling grease
and bubbling greens my uncle called hallelujah and amen.
Wallpaper aged like the wrinkled faces of generations
sitting at her table, arguing over cards
and gossiping over cognac …

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