October Poem 51: Cowboy Chili

I write in the kitchen and the words come

As the darkened leather of dried chilies

Their seeds shaking like maracas until

Cut open and poured into the old ice

Cream container where the scraps are kept bound

For the compost heap to be spread in the

Garden. To come up as volunteers. To

Be cut down as weeds. And the chilies are

Chopped and then ground into powder, added

To other spices, and boiled with dried

Tomatoes and chopped steak for several

Hours before they are ladled out to

The page to be read alone or with cheese,

Onions, and a dollop of sour cream.