Ginger

When the hurt of the world gets too close,

come to my kitchen. It won't be peaceful,

there’s no time for worry. I’ll braid your hair

with purple ribbons. And we’ll dance

on the chairs

We’ll drink ginger tea-

with lots of ginger. So much

ginger. Until

the songs we sing along to. The songs on the radio

are woven with ginger. The ginger will

be

fogging the windows and

curling through the air. Golden and

we’ll have ginger in our blood.

We’ll run in the rain. Sit on the porch

and eat a bowl of rice.

And the air will be full of ginger