I hold the word “elegant” between my fingers
trying to match it with a familiar thing.
While dipping a spoonful of cornflakes
in skim milk,
I think: milk would be fine;
yet between its whiteness and my palate
- the spoon , like a shovel,
like a tool of farm workers,
a scene
almost mythical
from old Columbia Pictures,
except for the morning prayer.

Too bad!
My fingers would look so elegant
resting the pointed pyramid
of two grateful hands
against my forehead.

© Elena Malec, California 1997