by Amara George Parker
I can now make heirloom recipes
without first checking the faded letters
someone once so lovingly
scalloped across yellowing paper.
if today I prefer rosemary
over thyme,
I know my grandmothers would celebrate my tongue and so
I dash whatever I crave
into the pot.
if today my blood is not salty enough,
should my eyes be desiring of colours more potent than the old ways dare to give,
I will adapt, stir in a fraction of the sea’s white-froth crest, and lick my salted lips.
I can do these things.
I am capable yet
alone,
tasting my grandmother’s recipes,
I feel so separated from her warmth.
Amara George Parker is a London-based writer. Their short story, Rafterland, appears in Mslexia’s Other Worlds issue, and their poetry has been published in literary magazines including Spoon Knife, Sufi Journal, and Earth Pathways diary.
As a queer disabled writer, they hope their work offers readers an inclusive perspective. When they’re not writing, they love being immersed in nature or listening to something sultry or funky. They’d love to chat to you about literature, drag, disability, paganism, and boats. Will read your tarot for a price. Follow them on Instagram @a_g_parker.
