The Brussels Sprouts

Wait: for that time of year when the ground is hard
and the sky is lower on the horizon than it has ever been—when you can see
the crows roosting in the empty trees. Then go to your garden and
walk among the plants.

Here you will find spoiled greens (burned yellow
by the frost). But others
will be tight and sweeter for the cold.
Among these is the brussels sprout.

How shall you approach it?
First, strip the shaggy leaves—
expose the brussel heads. Next, grip the stalk
and wrench it up. As you like
take pruning shears and cut away the roots.

Bring this crook, with its thick knobs and
leafy periwinkles, back inside your home. Are things
where they were? Wash it. Scrub away the dirt,
loose leaves, and insects.

We are ready to twist off the sprouts. Your fingers are strong
enough for this: pop each knot, pull away the outer leaves,
collect them in a pot. Rinse, again. I’m sorry I still have your steamer.

Steam them, lightly. Just until the curls are bright
green in the heat. While they cook, fetch garlic from the basket
by the bay window. Remember to crush the cloves with the flat of the blade,
before dicing.

You once told me that you loved the smell of cooking garlic
more than anything. Mix with butter, lemon, salt—
drizzle over the brussels sprouts. It was the wind today
that made me think of you and last November.