PARSLEY

There is reason for good broth 

for there is no middle ground.

Usually, i sit to let it boil

to think of various things;

to weave a funeral wreath

for colossal desire to see it burn

into a boiled over slow plague.

But when steam diffuses

as lovingly as a kitchen's silence 

i shall tuck deep into cupboards

and translate the wounds

dismissed for fistfuls of herbs

to sip my good broth.

Because why should i rationalize wellness?

joy can be dispatched

as i rinse this palate

and my fear of parsley.