Recipe
by Wayne Bornholdt
I bought a pound of certainty,
emptied the contents
into the chipped porcelain bowl-
mixed two parts water with vinegar
from the crucified apples.
My hands stirred this stew,
the mash climbed up
to my calloused elbows,
and settled at that boundary.
I carried the bowl toward the sun fields,
set it upon the salt blocks,
lifted my hands, still dripping with the tincture,
and flicked the residue
on the burning calf.
An hour passed, the immolation complete,
I turned, lumbered away—
In the smoke and pungency, my eyes teared—
I heard the calf laughing—
telling a sly joke to the next in line—
It was time to go buy another pound of certainty.
Wayne Bornholdt is a poet and retired bookseller. He has degrees in philosophy and theological studies. He lives in West Michigan with his wife and two Golden Retrievers.
