[I like to keep all my poetry in the same place, so I will just post this again even though I originally posted this on my school-related blog (without the explanation here; you can look at it there if you’re interested).]
Fried Cabbage in the Kyomushil (teachers’ office)
Eager noses pressed up against doors and windows, peering in,
breath fogging up the glass
What is it? What is it? I can’t see! Smells good—
Here comes Teacher, will she take pity?
it’s cold outside—
Time for class.
Kids scurry off—still, a few noses and sighs
Linger in the corridor.
A chuckle slides opens the door: Welcome.
Step into the room now, another world—
tips of Ears, Nose and Fingers suddenly aglow
the hearty crackling of grease permeates the air,
paechu jeon sizzling in a pan.
The room is bright with anticipation
as six or so surround the expert hand—
flip! crack! sizzle…
a steady buzz of chatter and cheer
complement the spitter-spattering of the prize—
Do you have cabbage in America?
—a deft motion, deference (or maybe preference) to the delicacy at hand
for a split second by the flying object
momentarily poised to wreak havoc
then, swiftly as it came, summoned back as if by magic
SNAP! Perfect landing.
sizzle, crack, sizzle…
back to the same simmering state, just
And common grace fills the room.
Soon—a Feast! It’s not quite Thanksgiving, but the spirit is here
Chopsticks separate at lightning speed
Dip, drip, devour
Crispy cabbage with a kick of spice
Flavor of delight.