Recipe for Salt

The jar says oregano but it looks like dust,

a soft, grey sediment of a season

I wasn't invited to.

I dump it in the water anyway,

watching the pot wait for a miracle.

The steam rises and hits the ceramic,

fat droplets hanging off the chipped rim

before falling back into the heat.

It doesn't smell like her house.

It smells like wet cardboard and iron.

I am standing in a kitchen full of food

and yet I am starving for a salt

that only her hands knew how to find.