by Jon Raimon

this quiet
we spread with rich butter
from the kitchen island

this noise
we down with dark beer
from the pantry

this coupling
we stir and stir
searching

for the one ingredient,
something with o, something with
s, something in the one cupboard

where no one looks, behind the
chia seeds and ancient oatmeal,
behind spicy pickles and

the one box of pasta
shaped like stars,
the shooting, wishing kind

the kind we need tonight
before the silences, star-
less and safe, ruin

our appetite for love

Jon Raimon teaches writing in Ithaca, NY. His work explores grief, family, resistance, and all forms of love. He is part of Spring Writes, Ithaca’s literary festival, and his work appeared in Trampoline: A Journal of Poetry, The Turning Leaf, Book of Matches, Merganser Magazine, Quasar Review, Adirondack Center for Writing, Wilderness, and will soon be featured in The Bluebird Word, Dogwood Alchemy, and Quill of the Goddess.