another homage to the mineral of borscht

(after Moure)


time for an “homage to the basic mineral of borscht.” and beets and cabbage. we bring potatoes peeled and sliced thin. press the delicate earthy flesh into the old lady’s palms, clean as soil. there’s no language here; no words for the smooth embrace of cabbage leaf against her cheek. only mushrooms and lilacs, leather and orange. the back of her neck smells of citrus and musk.


the nun said ‘if she’s unable to swallow the host, come find me. i have to wrap it in a tissue and burn it.’


o flesh of my flesh. always tilling the earth. always scrubbing the pots. neurons fail; you lose strength and cannot move. none of use speak ukrainian; no mother tongue to lick your face clean. we brought rabbits and chocolate milkshakes but should have packed carrots and onions in a wheelbarrow. chopped and boiled. we could have filled your bed with vegetables and water.


she said remember when i used to pick you up from school and take you out for lunch said you grew up too fast she said i’ll never meet my great-grandchildren. the end of speech reduces us to letter-boards and blinking. please scratch my nose my arm hurts please my elbow thank you for the letter yes no please thank you always thank you.


i should have brought beets, sliced them widthwise, pointed to the purple concentric rings. this is my blood; drink from it. it will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven.



did they have to break your bones to straighten your hands? folded with rosary beads. we brought smoke and white roses tablecloths starched white stiff. we brought incense and holy water. we should have filled the casket with borscht and rye bread. we should have brought you fresh laundry anais anais and cigarettes.



no language for amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. the soul makes no sound when it leaves.



‘toward the end, people often open their eyes, some people smile; they just look very placid and calm ’



at the end my brother said i think her brothers and sisters the room filled up with people.