Gather Round the Kitchen
By Obi Martin
Gather round the kitchen
And watch the pages fly.
I’m reading on the stovetop
And circling up the pie.
The wine is in the tumbler
And the meat is in the pot.
Tonight I’m thoroughly convicted
That I’d rather be than not.
I have cajoled my belly full
To get off its seat and dance.
The blackstone hearth is full of warmth
Its flames are all aglance.
Unwind the time, and merrily
Around my neck a scarf
After a nap, we’ll reattack
The sugar and the starch.
Around and round the kitchen
Through the breezeway, through the door
Then out across the front yard
And inside the house once more.
I see myself outside myself
And rollick at the sight
By leaving self come home to self
Both guest and host tonight.
The times that Obi Martin feels most alive come often when he is reading or writing.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy
This is going to make me sound well-read, which is a pleasant falsehood, but this poem reminds me of William Carlos Williams poem “The Dance.”