Academic journal article Transnational Literature

My Mother's Recipes

Academic journal article Transnational Literature

My Mother's Recipes

Article excerpt

They were wrapped up in string,

photos and the secret to taste buds

recipes of past places

I'd never been. I pulled them out

of their boxes, good memories

stored away while life was busy.

A cake, I'd start with that.

Buying extra sugar I didn't give her

a chance to say no. With fragrances

and sticky fingers filling her kitchen,

I dragged them out. I don't remember

the flavour of my history, but now

I cooked textures I'd never seen.

Maybe that could be my place.

I dug my hands into flour and sugar

and butter while she talked in circles,

attaching more events as the past

got inside her through her nose.

She told me of snow that hedged

her steps, slushing the streets as it made

pictures on countryside trees.

She told me of rose-coloured stone

history mostly crumbling, a town

that spread fire at any excuse,

a man who preached time at the clock

in a pink lady coat. …

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