A prayer to my mother in her kitchen

Poetry day 4 of 31

Photo by Amaury Gutierrez on Unsplash

My mother,
who art in her kitchen
tired be thy hands
and thy body
bent and curved over thy holy stove
or countertop
or mixing bowl.
Give us, please
our daily helping of bread and meat and vegetables and
dessert, always dessert.
Forgive us, for the times
we did not appreciate you
when we did not see
your hours spent sweating over pots of potatoes
and sheets of cookies
as…