Poetry

Nomadic Kitchens

Some kitchens are wanderers

they are born late-comers

to busy dining tables

they can be spotted by their naked windows

and jumbled collection of   cups and plates 

picked up on the way

they never talk about their lost cutleries

they pass rocky mountains

that’s why they carefully wrap the memories

of grandma's china set,

they are not eloquent

that's why they  fail to explain  how exotic  recipes

can easily heat their oven’s chest

they are surrogate mothers  of lonely diners

on Christmas day

nomadic kitchens are shy and restless

they are scared to be intimate

if  somewhere faraway

 between mountains and deserts

they  could finally undress a tangerine

 and  lure a guest...

  you  only know them gone

when  sun-dried fruit of a womb

is miscarried  in the cellar of a happy house.

Shirin Teifouri

© 2014