The First Time You Cooked

The First Time You Cooked

by Maisha Islam

the first time you cooked
for someone else
you weren’t quite sure if you knew them at all
your mother’s kitchen closes in on you and
your spindly fingers falter
the air too humid and the summer heat jarring
on bare skin, young and unmarred
from spatulas too long and pots too charred.
and so i brush away 
the beaded sweat 
decorating your eyelids, the heat
burning through your worn out clothes 
and tracing you internally 
your nerves twirl around you, almost poetically
it puts you in a daze and you almost forget
that you’ve always been afraid of fire.

the first time you cooked, 
it was for someone suddenly unknown 
and the world turned dangerous, strange
home becomes a foreigners land
and no water tastes the same
never enough sugar, the salt too tame
there’s scarring on your hand and 
water slips through like sun-torn sand
this kitchen–
supposedly a child’s game
but the fire’s too bright and it burns your eyes
and it’s like you’re a child again
afraid of everything, again.

searing summer nights and briefly i wonder
if i’ll ever know anyone enough 
to dance blindly around the kitchen 
into the heart of the fire
if only to cook for you 
another meal
just another time

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Maisha Islam is a sophomore studying computer science and sociology at CCNY, and hopes to work in technology consulting in the future and meet a bunch of cool people. In her free time, she enjoys being holed up at her local library, going on long runs in below-freezing weather, and collecting prayer beads. She loves picking up random hobbies and is currently on a mission to learn jump-rope tricks and embroidery.