Poem: Fire Food

A single finger,

Oil soaked,

And skilled as hell,

Drags the fire along,

Makes it move,

And sparks the flare—

Of deliciousness.

A sparking thing,

A crackling thing,

Spices and flavor making the air sing,

Soon it will be on the plate,

Soon it will be in the stomach,

But, in the meantime,

In this time,

This man who has trained,

To handle fire,

And knives,

And make it ten times a day,

Dance eggs and not burn anything,

And make it all entertaining for everyone,

Will show the art that takes—

That takes years to master.

Fire food cooked to a song,

But what he wanted to make,

All along.

He has the skill.

And he earned it.

Special thanks to: Melissa Potter

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