(NaPoWriMo, Day 8)

I awake to the sound 
of more sirens—
firetruck and ambulance 
this time—the weather has calmed,
the city has not--and visions 
of spinach artichoke dip 
spreading on multi-grain bread 
with round, browned 
and caramelized slices 
of oven dried tomato--
red on green and 
green and white
on brown.

Cold Spinach Dip

We stood at the sink, 
hand in hand in twelve pounds of 
thawing spinach, in

the colander, in 
the bowl, running water cold, 
but warming.  We grabbed 

the green leaves by the 
squeezing handfull as we went 
and I said, "It’s so 

nice and warm on one 
side but bitter cold on the 
other."  You said, “Yes,”

leaning close into me, “Yes, 
it’s just like your heart."

...and just to clarify, I have never laughed so hard in all of our thirteen years together...
...she knows this cold dip so well...

...puttin' the Po' in NaPoWriMo...