Peppermint, Cinnamon, Memory

I keep thinking about the body and my workshop in a few days. How poetry can bring you back to the body. How writing about food can help you remember details that you wouldn't have thought of and place you firmly there in that memory.

This weekend a student of mine wrote about camping with her sister and eating steaming oatmeal with chunks of candied peppermint.

 It made me think of the Ondaatje poem, "The Cinnamon Peeler":

You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler’s wife. Smell me.

I'm excited to write in Nashville. To hear students talk of meals they remember. To use poetic form to craft the memory as sharp and sweet as peppermint burning your tongue in the early morning.