Bacon
Salt can cure us.
I’ve seen it done before:
like a few days ago,
when you came in from the pouring rain,
all drenched and miserable.
Your socks were sopping.
You were shivering
just a little,
and I glanced at the fire
and nodded at the easy chair.
Though the snow has melted,
I knew the ice was still present
in your bones.
Then I brought it out,
you deserved it, after all:
four slightly crisp strips of
sizzling bacon. Canadian maple
bacon. The way you like it,
golden, curled at the edges
like waves of heat.
Bacon that smelled like
Summer. And we laughed
and spoke of when
we could stand in the shed
hours and hours and be baked
in the sun ourselves and later be smoked
by the choking dust that swirled
from the autumn leaves.
Salt then was from your sweat,
like crystals in the sun
that stung your eyes
and made your smile crack.
Salt cured us then,
cures us now,
fills us,
when we are hungry.
~ Jenny Lum
Jenny Lum has loved language since she could remember. Her first attempt at writing poetry came when she was nine years old. Born and raised in Vancouver with a Cantonese background, Jenny’s inspirations are often from the natural world around her.
Beatiful poem. Great job Jenny.