Food and Culture at Raven

Pa Catalan

a poem by Elizabeth Alexander

for Pat Moore

The waiter brings pa Catalan—
sliced country bread
topped with puree
the orange of autumn maples
just past peak.

I launch into a long story about...something,
distracted by the changes in your eyes
my graying hair
We have both aged.

It is seven weeks since the terrorist attacks,
four weeks after the first bombs struck Kabul.
Nothing could have got me on a plane
but the promise of seeing you.

Artichoke and Tetilla cheese gratin,
Piquillo de Pamplona con esparragos,
Dos ensaladas de la casa.
Rioja, más, rioja.

I love the incipient lines in your face, or perhaps what I love is my noticing them; you
look less like my Aunt Mary as you grow older, you look more beautiful each time.

Will we meet again? Terrorists in the air, anthrax in the mail. If Ashcroft is right, this is only the beginning.

On the dessert tray:
Valencian orange tart, bittersweet chocolate cake,
grana de cappellŕ, crema cremada.
We shake our heads no.

Whatever happens,
I find comfort in the order you create:
two sweaters folded just so in the hotel bureau,
a curling iron,
a daisy chain embroidered on your purple gown.

Tonight, your breath a lullaby,
I will sleep fearlessly,
holding your hand, sensing your rib cage rise and fall,
knowing that you are safe,
that we are safe together.