You cooked me dinner last night,
and I can still taste the warmth of
sirloin and butter and your lips and
our bed after two cocktails. Tangled
in the sheets, I can remember our first
meal: vegetable risotto and salmon at
a candlelit restaurant before we walked
along the riverbank, me under your arm
among the crisp rose petals of fall leaves.
Back in your room, I tasted the cologne
on your skin while you freed my dress
and my self-control and my appetite in
that same gentle way you crack an egg
so we can share cookie dough and wine
on the duvet at midnight. I’m still hungry
from our first months apart—I remember
the bouquets you sent me, the starvation
of our kisses in the car when you met
me at the airport with your love and a
sandwich and another seven recipes for
us to try. This is just one reason I want
to spend my life with you: even on
February 15th, I crave our next meal.
Jenna Mather is a graduate of the University of Iowa, where she studied English and creative writing. With her poetry, short fiction, and creative nonfiction, she tries to untangle the complexities of love, womanhood, and the writing life. On any given day, you can find her in a coffee shop—or online at @_jennamather and jennamather.com.