NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Six: “Soup”

Soup

When I cook, I like
to make soup
because it’s easy,
a single pot full

of whatever
I deem worthy.
There’s little mess,
flavor to nurture

as long as I want
to linger, aroma
that winds its way
around me. But

even this costs
too much time
for me: I cook
with pressure,

my Instant Pot
enabling me to be
lazy, create hours
of flavor in minutes.

It tastes good, but
I always imagine
that something
is lost this way,

that a bullied soup
must mean less
than a slow boil,
long reverent hours.

Thanks for reading! April is National Poetry Writing Month, and this year I’m writing and publishing a poem about food each day. My 2021, 2020, and 2019 NaPoWriMo poems (about GIFs, the Fast and Furious movies, and car insurance, respectively) are still live on Medium, so check out my profile if you want more.