Kitchen

This is only the second visit.
The air hums of garlic

crushed and stewed in butter
and my taste buds twitch

to taste it, muscle memory —
my small tongue salivates,

coated in phantom broth.
Sade wafts over wailing cats,

a cricket bat whacked across
blurs of ant heads.

We’re making jelly now.
As I separate the juicy cubes,

ripe with cow fat and pineapple,
her Little Bo Peep figurine

shoots me this look, crook raised,
to remind me how alien I am.