Persian Rice

By Doug Tanoury

For dinner she makes a large

Platter of Persian rice that is

An artist’s pallet, where grains

Of white and yellow mass and mingle

With dried red fruits like a multitude

Of Muslim pilgrims converging in Mecca.

 

In the kitchen she talks to me

As she is busy at the stove,

Tipping a pan and scooping. She repeats

The recipe over the contents as it were

A secret incantation and I catch only…

Cinnamon, cumin and cardamom.

 

I speak them rapidly back to her

In almost a half-whisper,

With the earnestness of a supplicant

Reciting a prayer, and I tell her

There is poetry in Persian Rice;

It is alive with alliterative spice.

 

It sits steaming on the table between us,

Bejeweled with pomegranate seeds,

Rose petal and bits of oranges.

In the first bite, I taste a secret pinch of saffron,

An unseen dash of sumac and all the flavors

Of my grandmother’s pantry.

 

Doug Tanoury has published over 20 chapbooks of poetry, including St. Mary’s Art Cloister, Tolstoy’s Ghost and Detroit Poems.  He currently lives in Detroit, MI.