Blue Mountain Arts Poetry Contest

On the Boil
by C. Johnson

Fortieth
Contest
Second Place

“Stock is magical”
You used to say
While the big pot boiled
And turned scraps into treasure
Old bones and the ends of onions

You were right
I’d tell you that, if you were here.

There are so many things I wish I could tell you
Stories and thoughts and meandering declarations
Of things you probably knew already

New ways to say things you’ve heard before

I only want to say them because you’re not here
Isn’t that stupid?
You already knew I loved you
But I need to know you know

Put it into the pot
Nothing goes to waste

Grief doesn’t go away
It just percolates
Flavoring everything it touches
And spilling over all the time

Every day is hard
And then every week
And every month

And before I know it
Every year

Time is an ingredient

It’s been simmering
Like the stock you used to make
To make me feel better
To fill me with love
So much packed into so little
That just a drop can flavor your whole life
Clinging to the spoon every time you stir it

And after so long on the boil,
Like magic
It reduces to its purest form
Ultra concentrated, rich and thick

And simple

Until all I would say is that
I miss you.