White plate on roommate’s placemat
“Vintage” brown table and creaky radiator in the corner
The neighbors above us are fighting.
Feet pound pounding on the cap of our ceiling.
Canned tomatoes – out of basil
Fresh or otherwise-
Three shards of dried bay leaf set to simmer
Translucent onions stained glass by the olive oil
That block of parmesan
C’mon -put your elbow into it
Great shocks of white square salt
And stings of red and black pepper
The palate,
-does it sing?
