A GUIDE TO HERBS AND SPICES
from the Tears & Fears Café Cookbook

Cilantro:
The hired man leans against the fence, shirt off, muscled, dusty, ready.
You don’t own him.

Cinnamon:
Don’t trust her, with her green eyes.
She’s not that helpless.

Ginger:
Oh my god, angels live in dirt, not sky.
She’s telling you this, but you just want to kiss her.

Sage:
A hermit lives on Mist Mountain. At 4 am he washes in the icy stream.
If you can’t imagine his pleasures, don’t climb the twenty seven steps to his hut.

Parsley:
Middle child. How many times have they left without noticing
he was still under the Yellow Birch, making those odd little drawings?

Rosemary:
Stop telling her your dreams. You’re not in hers.
She owns this room. She deserves it.

Lemon Thyme:
The town librarian, barely five feet tall, peers through glasses thick as Black Plum Lake in winter.
She’s always laughing to herself. Why not? Life’s hilarious.

Oregano:
Someone’s got to tell the truth. Agreed.
But would it kill him to say something nice sometimes?

Turmeric:
The war’s changed him. So many secrets now.
But he’s kinder.

Black Pepper:
Just be glad she’s your friend. She can flay a man from hair gel to Italian leather
in thirteen words, or less.

Garlic:
Ugly as a gargoyle. In bed – a god.

Clove:
So what if she has money? A black silk hat? A white gold ring?
They’re still tears, even when they fall on an orchid. 

Salt:
His ship’s in harbor.
He has nothing to prove.

This poem first appeared in The American Journal of Poetry