Poetry by Merril D. Smith

               ​Matthew Paul Argall CC


​
​Small Bites

I beat away the bitter,
whisking eggs and memories,
adding chocolate—always chocolate--

and wait for the rising, each laugh,
an amuse-bouche

before we ate, and after

when we shopped. Do you remember? Crowded in the dressing room,
mise en place, we begin the process,

put her arms in sleeves, pull up pants
all of us reflections of her, and in the glass, images stretching 

through time, repeating, echoing
the motions she had performed for all of us--

mother to daughter to mother

gone now, but these moments,
I taste them like the cake--

in small bites, rich, sweet,
and salty with tears.


​

Merril D. Smith writes from southern New Jersey, where she takes long walks and watches the birds along the Delaware River. Her poetry and short fiction have been published most recently in Black Bough Poetry, Nightingale and Sparrow, Fevers of the Mind, The Tide Rises, and Anti-Heroin Chic. Twitter  @merril_mds

---