Joyce Hida
Yogurt Recipe
I am peeling back the milk’s skin,
begging a hangnail to sour itself
into yogurt. Boil slowly, instructions
from my mother, to transform
the matter. And I love her for that,
for believing in gentle
change.
She is almost 50 now, and being 50, visits
my kitchen as a bug-eyed angel
visits this manger or that cave, bearing
prophecy up slow stairs. Before
her feet can rest she is taking
space, refilling my wooden fruit bowl,
tutting at the state of things. She
denies
all pain, though it simmers through
her jawbone. On her last pilgrimage,
she stitched my gaping jeans and I
injected medicine into her thigh,
because love, these days, is quiet
needlework.
You never remember this
part, she sighs, cradling the yogurt in
a white towel, this breeds the old
bacteria.
begging a hangnail to sour itself
into yogurt. Boil slowly, instructions
from my mother, to transform
the matter. And I love her for that,
for believing in gentle
change.
She is almost 50 now, and being 50, visits
my kitchen as a bug-eyed angel
visits this manger or that cave, bearing
prophecy up slow stairs. Before
her feet can rest she is taking
space, refilling my wooden fruit bowl,
tutting at the state of things. She
denies
all pain, though it simmers through
her jawbone. On her last pilgrimage,
she stitched my gaping jeans and I
injected medicine into her thigh,
because love, these days, is quiet
needlework.
You never remember this
part, she sighs, cradling the yogurt in
a white towel, this breeds the old
bacteria.
Biography
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Joyce Hida is a recent Penn grad and poet based in NYC. She is a previous Best of the Net nominee for her work in Empty House Press. Her writing has also been featured in TYPO Magazine, South Florida Poetry Journal, and Eunoia Review, among others.
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