Self-Portrait as The Process of Preparing a Meal

Nicholas Runyon

Doubt.

The question of what must be done first,

mise en place,

and what can be accomplished midway through,

under the tyranny of heat.

An assembly.

Divestment of the cabinets and refrigerator.

Things placed on the counter, wrapped and raw.

Shelling,

rinsing,

submersion,

mincing—

fingertips smelling like garlic—

division.

Gore.

Pale, flabby strips flayed

from sides of flesh,

sinews swelled to quivering.

The introduction of the medium—

swaddling fat—

doubt, and an uncertain but faithful

ignition.

An apotheosis in parts:

rising like escaping steam

to be made sweeter.

Maillard anticipated.

And removal

to make room for what comes next.

Doubt.

...

Release!

Vinegary

acrid amber catharsis and

charred, raucous reminder

beat down

and burnt off

until au sec—

less and better—

mounting

with no breaking

while ceramic clinks

urgently in the distance.

Confluence!

Bringing back up

in swirls and tosses,

doubt and

insufficient heat.

Anointment in small grains and

black vespers, cracking and soaring in

a confession of shared human need and

the lingering suspicion

that it is too well-sated.

Dances before pan until,

spoon brought up to lips—

a seizing of shoulders

Nicholas Runyon is a junior studying English and creative writing at the University of Iowa. He is the editor-in-chief of New Moon Magazine and a fiction editor at earthwords: the undergraduate literary review. He grew up in Martinsville, New Jersey, but he possesses an accent that people have a hard time pinning down no matter where he goes.