Mimi Kusch

In my kitchen, you place

blueberries on my cereal,

carefully, one by one.

You are wearing your

soft gray sweater,

your pearl earrings.

Behind you the teacups

on their rack are

winking in the sun.

I can’t stop looking at you.

It seems we’ve been here

forever, though you never

saw this kitchen—when

I wake up, it takes long

minutes for me to realize this.

I want to return to a

kitchen where you have

yet to die, where morning

stands still, where

your simplest gestures

are a currency, of love.

Mimi Kusch has been in the publishing industry for twenty years and currently works as a freelance editor. She lives in Davis, California, with her husband and daughter. This is her first published poem, from her chapbook, Umbria and Other Poems.

  fiction    poetry    "fact"    photography
masthead      guidelines