by Jennifer Weiss

Inspired by A Man Milling Cacao into Chocolate with a Metate and a Mano, by unidentified Spanish artist, circa 1680-1780 (NC Museum of Art Collection)

You kneel at the altar of your work, roll up pristine sleeves,
power granite mano back and forth across metate
to crush cacao to bitter powder you blend with sugar,
fashion into oval candy for clergy, nobility, royalty.

At drizzly dusk you lumber home, the fragrant dust
of labor etched in calluses and countenance.
Your woman smiles, nods from the hearth where she stirs
a stew of onions, cabbage and potatoes for supper.

Across the darkened room, your babies slumber.
You crouch behind a curtain, trace beloved lips
with work-worn fingers, sample mounded breasts
more luscious than any confection consumed at court.

Rolling together, two become one; the patter and hum
of rain rinse away the grinding day with rhythmic thrum.

Jennifer Weiss was awarded the 2022 NC State Poetry Prize. Her work has been featured in the NC Poetry Society Poetry in Plain Sight series and in Qu Literary Magazine, The NC Literary Review, Kakalak and The Main Street Rag. A lawyer and former state legislator, she volunteers in a Title I Elementary School and loves reading aloud to children. She lives in Cary, NC. Read more of her poetry at jenniferweisspoetry.com.