Recipes for Trouble

Comfort Food Soft needled paths through the woods a moon like a wedge of pie tend to my heart’s small hungers words and a lover’s musky scent a cold silken kiss in a forest are my comfort food.

I was waiting for some news. News that would change the contours of my life. News of something I wanted and dreaded so much it felt like my heart would break out of its skin. Like I would go mental! The Buddhists would say, return to the breath. But I decided to return to…

Love doesn’t always appear in a form you recognize. My friends and lovers are family too; sometimes the meals they cook nourish me more than even Baba’s endless feasts. I am this family’s self-appointed bearer of memory, recalling the absent spaces, recording the recipes, searching for the glimmer of devotion, the aroma of happiness,…