jaffa geometry

my grandmother wielded a kitchen knife
a veteran one
had killed its share of produce
gutted fish and miscellaneous
farm animals

for us grandchildren
that knife sliced with precision
a fraction of a fraction of a degree
our oranges in six
Venice gondolas in fire and gold

my own oranges cut squarely
straight down and across
halved and quartered
I couldn't figure else

now that knife lives in my hands
reincarnated in upmarket steel alloys

suddenly my kids eat oranges
sliced slantwise into sixths

the mathematical precision
of a zen master samurai

Poetry by Katarina Wikholm
Read 150 times
Written on 2012-04-01 at 09:22

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You've made vivid (and loving) images of my own memories. Our grandparents live on in the things we remember and emulate, venerate. So often the old ways are still the best ways.

It's surprising sometimes how food seems to not only look different, but to actually taste different when cut a certain way.

Grew up with four, graduated to six. Six in this household.