Si hay sofrito, es bendito

We try to cook a meal and nothing

is on our side.

I buy brussel sprouts--

overpriced, mind you

and even admit “it’s not the season”.

As I go to chop them,

I find their centers to be stalky,

the leaves, misshapen.

Grotesque underlings growing

on their sides, that should never

Be the way brussel sprouts be.

I admit it is hard for me,

to cook. Less the “break 

confines of femininity,” more

I run the list of all possible food options

and none of them seem appealing.

What’s worse, will find myself 

gagging at perfectly good food

because it refuses to settle right.

When I call myself 90% vegan, there

are some important entities in the

remaining ten. My most comfortable,

the can of tuna. I cannot escape how

humbling it is to, with the flick of a wrist,

make any starch nutritious. 

We make sofrito, you admit my green pepper

looks a little wrinkly, “un poco viejito,” yeah

but definitely edible. Simmer stalky down and

then kiss with brussel sprouts still in our teeth.