“Ristra” by Autumn Moss

Early spring punctuated by the violin screech 

Of insects beckons us to harvest

Sweet lavender

Sweet rosemary

.

Kitchen twine and iron black metal hooks

Drilled into the rafters and I hang

Bundles of herbs perfuming the kitchen

Perfuming the bedrooms

.

Supple leaves bake in the skylight

Rays of hot Sunwarmth

Drying the stems straight

Drying the flowers until they crumble

.

Later when after the cicadas have starved

And the first fat Canadian goose flies south

I pick ripe peppers

I pickle roasted peppers

.

I place aside the brightest blood orange sangria-colored beauties

Bind together the stems with hearty string

Bunch with chili peppers cascading down

Bunched shriveling hollowing spice

.

The air’s turned cold and dry when I rip handfuls of crispy chilies off the bundle

Crunch and crumble them in my fists into a pot

Steam rises from boiling carne adovada

Steamed capsaicin hits my lungs and I cough

.

Red dust down my yellow apron, up to my elbows

Meat filling my flu-sick stomach

Warmed throat pink cheeks

Warmed nose and I can breathe easier