Katharyn Howd Machan: Smelling of Ginger

she keeps the shining stir fry going
as his gaze goes down, his mouth stops sharing
the broken story of how he was almost
a father to a son

before you, it was just before you
he adds in a hurry as onions sizzle
and she stares out of the summer window
where a last rose offers pink

I thought maybe I would never tell you
he says after waiting while garlic fills
the afternoon kitchen with promises
of appetite fulfilled

but, well, you know, I love you….
now his voice like rising steam
she can only shift away
from her good pan of hot oil