Pour and pour and pour

    —Summer in Shymkent

by Katie Esmée

Plov is meant for the heart,

breaking bread the day. 

Spices spy dry eyes and coat hoarse throats

heavy, a summer blanket served

with cross-legged conversations.

Burning colors of inked seat cushions

and zelenny chay simmering atop whole thoughts 

pour and pour and pour. When empty chashka

yawn lipped in gold leaf, eat until all meat is

consumed. Our mothers told us

the sun thinks the same –

mooring on our skin until we've pruned.

Spasiba slips to table among sleepy napkins

while friends carry the bill and each other.

Katie Esmée is a Bachata lover, yogi, and poet.