Tradition – by Vivien Jones

 

Every fourth courgette is spiralised,
I read in The Guardian.

Meanwhile I take down my china bowls,
my bendy spatulas, my bi-numeral scales,
my unlabelled jars of this and that,

my flours of many kinds (the thrill
of a light loaf with rye flour
and sour dough, a recent triumph)

my thumb and finger rub soft butter
through silky flour, patiently,
motes hang in the sunlight.

Grams and kilos would have flummoxed them,
but I am my mother, my grandmother too,
a conduit for simple knowledge,

the temperature, the place on the shelf,
length of cooking, the way to test the rise,
what seems like wisdom is merely repetition.

Today I have a visitor, an observer,
my daughter-in-law, who spiralises courgettes.

 

 

 

Vivien Jones – Her first poetry collection was About Time, Too (2010). In that year she also won the Poetry London Prize. Her second poetry collection was Short of Breath (2014). She is one of three editors of ‘Southlight’, a literary journal in south-west Scotland. She also writes plays.

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