Poetry | Journal

the stability of the staple
tucked in the top cabinet,
a little anchor point
behind the daily chaos,
rations for war time
or post-apocalypse
and every in between night

mac n cheese
does not expire

cheddar flavor a wonder,
ten thousand cheese crisps
broken from slices of curd
crushed by mortar and pestle
by the tender hands of
industrialized machinery

the craft in forging sustenance
that is Kraft dinner,
presented in brilliant blue,
a winner’s ribbon placed
on the highest shelf
to view in awe
is a welcome embrace
more intimate than the Michelin chef’s kiss
warm like reaching home in a snowstorm
familiar as faces in a funeral procession

golden chutes of nourishment
saluted satiation
comfort food from the early times
when cooking was the only chore

mac n cheese
does not need more
than a pot of water
a boiling temp
dry durum wheat
packaged orange contents
milk
butter
bowl
fork or spoon?