Omelet

Fiona Tinwei Lam
From:  Enter the Chrysanthemum. Madeira Park, BC: Harbour Publishing, 2009

First, the egg.
I teach him the way I taught myself,
food group by food group
through the tattered cookbook.
I break the eggs; he stirs them.
A flick of salt, a few drops of cream.
I heat the pan, grate the cheese.
He pours the eggs in. Opacity
spreads from the edges inward:
an ocean sizzles into land.
Perched on the countertop,
he observes me like the scientist
he might become.
I flip one side over. Voila!

Last night, we played a game
and pulled a card. What would the world
come to in a hundred years?
I feared a polluted war zone
unless humankind changed.
He said we'd live on Mars.

I pour the claret tea as fragrant
as a berry patch into the good cups.
Warming his hands, he wiggles his fingers
through the prospect of clouds.
He stirs in the honey, licks the spoon,
says Thank you bees.

White cyclamen on the table. Blaze of winter
sun through trees. A plate
of simple food. Beside us,
the ones we love.

Omelet (Video poem)

Poem 1 | Poem 2 | Poem 3 | Poem 4 | Poem 5 | Poem 6

Fiona Tinwei Lam's works copyright © to the author.