Susan Smith Nash




The knife edge separates the theory from the flesh –

Or is it the bone?  You knew how to marinate

the big hunk of meat so that when it was time,

it would slide toward the knife

as though it craved that moment of separation –

the great divide between the potential and the actual –


But this is too abstract –

and unintentionally comic.

I prefer to think of the action of spice, herb, and salt

breaking down fibers –

approaching a condition we call “tender.”


Perhaps it’s just another way I express nostalgia –

smell of hickory or pinon in the smoker,

pungent aroma of drippings hitting fire,

taste of springwater when thirsting –

Sun, setting behind the mountains,

snow-fresh air, crisp and sharp.


The knife cuts many ways –

when I remember the afternoons

purely invented -- a knife I apply to myself,

remembering days never spent but imagined, at our grill.



Susan Smith Nash