Jambalaya

I’m a mess of shit in a bowl,

spicy, smoked,

maybe left on the stove a little too long

and not stirred quite enough

so the bottom sticks to the pot

and no matter how hard you try,

you just can’t scrape it out,

and if you tried,

you’d scratch up your favorite bowl.

I’m andouille sausage and shrimp and crawfish and rice and vegetables,

a little French, and yes a little African

because my children, the people I love the most in this world

are brown-skinned and beautiful.

And it’s all mixed together

in a brown rue,

looking like a jumbled mess,

and tasting delicious, savory,

comfort with a kick.