Special d

When I was really leaving the first time
going very far away
Baba asked me who was going to cook for me

and was she so bad that I had to run away like that
she asked me whether she didn't make the best cabbage rolls

actually she told me she had the only recipe
something about rice and bacon
made hers better
than others who claimed best

at the time I reassured her
it wasn't because of her
I was leaving
but it made no difference
I had broken her heart
and rejected her cooking
and turned my back
like the worst tragedie grecque

and in this case
she preferred Euripedes over Sophocles

looking back now
it seems to me who wouldn't
but that was then and this is now

when I got where |I was going
that time
because there were many times
until I found a new home base
betraying Baboushka utterly
when I got there
there was a box of frozen cabbage rolls waiting
at the address I gave
the dry ice was still holding
and I was barely hungry
having eaten on the plane
in the days when that was a ritual
and free
as things were
when the appearance of generosity
was discovered to be less profitable
than six sigma lean
stripped down and rebuilt
a la carte

I remember looking out the window of my furnished bachelor
and thinking Baba was so far away
I wrote to her
tasting tears
as I tasted the the golubtsi
and somehow an expression got stuck in my head
"Don't cook the cabbage twice"
but of course that's what golubtsi was all about
you can't wrap a cabbage leaf
and hope for it to stick
without boiling it first

when at last
I was comforted by too much of what she sent
I finished my letter
and stamped it quick
and put it in the mailbox
even though there would be no pick up
and the delivery would take long
as it did in those days
even when you paid for special d

what was it she called me
Special K
and I felt special
sure enough
and ate more golubtsi
and knew in that moment
what it was to be driven
from one's home
and to make a fresh start
without language or anything like
the shirt on my back
with love sweet from the tomato
or maybe it was her kiss
and salty from the bacon
who am I fooling
it was from her tears
and my tears too
but I promised not to think of such things
and you made me promise I wouldn't do that to myself
and I worried about you
even though you told me that wasn't necessay
and you looked undone
when I walked through your door
and I looked back and your head was still out the door
one hand on the door and the other
hidden inside
clenching the knob
and your ringleted hair
more black than brown
and your cheeks more white than red
or that's the way I remember it

and I thought I saw red in your cheeks
before you closed the door
and that's the last time I saw you
but I carry you inside me
and it's not just the goubtsi
warm in my belly
but your hug around me tight
harmless as the dark
when you are sleeping beside
your lover

but she wasn't that
but she was much more too
when I am able to acknowledge that
which is not too often
because it hurts too much
to be tasting someone else's cabbage rolls
even my own
when she made the only ones
I will ever savour
together with her embrace
hands upon my chest
when I think now she's gone
even if I make my way back
to the house with the broad eaves
throwing the rain off
and welcoming me in.