Monday, April 16, 2018

Pho Soup Meditation

I’ve eaten all the goodies
out of my bowl of combo pho—
white-meat chicken this time;
tripe, of course, delicate but pigs'-feet-y;
flank; rare beef steak; tendon,
which is the soft-knuckle part of the bone,
neither marrow nor gristle;
and the nice big wad of rice noodles.
Now there’s only broth
left, a few basil-leaf scraps,
green-onion flakes, and sprouts.
It would be a nice meditation exercise
to finish the bowl by spoonfuls—
how many, do I think?—
Just wait, and I’ll tell you.
Ok, I lost track,
but I think it was at least twenty-five,
before I put the bowl to my lips
and drank the last few mouthfuls.