Gluttony

From my infancy I wanted to taste the world
Try out everything on my tongue
Grass and tables and mama's hair and
educationally engineered teething rings

I know I am not unique in this,
in wanting to find out fox holes and mirrors
and electrical sockets
(which maybe explains some things)

Today, the window of what I will allow in my mouth
has narrowed, which is, arguably, for the better.
But there are tastes I have missed.

I  have let in sugar and starch, syrup and sauce,
sluiced prodigally in place of the salt of someone else's secrets
I let savors come slushing down my throat
hoping to hush what hungers there
But it will not be stilled, this fevered yen.
It's not enough, maybe never enough
but what's enough?
I don't think in this lifetime I will ever feel
Full
but in the meantime there is taste.

Have you ever put something in your mouth
and known it was holy?
Come to my house some evening.
Bring a bottle of whatever you like.
I will show you how I pray these days.

There was a moment in my life
I stopped believing in God
and started believing in salt.
That whatever is alive grows
and dies and nourishes something else
And that includes me
I have only so many years
to let the world in through my mouth
Before I am served up cold
So instead of praying, now I have learned to add heat.
I braise and boil, and roast and broil
I steam.

I cannot promise you salvation
But come into my kitchen
It will be redolent with the sizzle of onions and hymns
There's voodoo in my tenderloin
Don't you fall in love with me
And say I didn't warn you.

We will offer libations and smash our glasses
And learn what it means to open
You will taste like Alleluia
and I will taste like Amen
And maybe that's close enough to holy
for now