Momma’s Recipe

Jasmine Harris

smackin’ my lips

& lickin’ fried residue fingers

What you makin’ Momma?

cause as soon as bodies ‘bound awake

savory soul snatching scents of love hit my nostrils

Momma responded by handing us aprons

handing us bowls, spatulas, and spoons

handing us whisks and ware for washing

not a moment too soon

handing us reigns to this room

cause knee high meant high enough to reach the oven

as you passed down seasoned scribes of seven generations

your hands wrapped ‘round me

& whipped wonders

in cast iron skillets

my consolation

cooked soothing soups

when faces were singed with sadness

Momma was full of multitasking concentration

So as I soak these dishes

I preheat the stove top grabbing ‘gredients without measuring mixes

All the while sweet talking

Soothing sounds and smells

Giving the next chef kisses

This continuity fulfilling her wishes

This here buttermilk pound cake, hot water cornbread, foot you found in my greens is encrypted

No need to ask if it’s purchased, modernized with raisins, or pieces of pie already predicted

Only

did you fix it

Using Momma’s recipe

Jasmine Harris is an Educational Specialist and published poet featured in the International Poetry Digest, Ink & Voices, Rigorous, etc. Author of, I May Have Been In My Feelings, focuses her writing on identity, relationships, and the climate of society. Harris frequently quotes her inspirations as Maya Angelou, Ntozake Shange, and Tupac Shakur. Stay updated with her work and projects through her website jasminemharris.weebly.com or by following her on Instagram @ dr_harris.

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