Tomatillo

hand thrown bowl
intitialled with the potter's old name
slurried to the center brown and cream
has held onions, garlic, potatoes
in my kitchen these twenty years
this week, tomatillos
small, hard, pale green
with sticky paper skins
they seem unripe

I know to roast them
in an old pie tin over the burner
slowly
turn them with my fingers
as they burn black and soft
add chiles japones
turning with my fingers

my stone is old
handed down molcajete
volcanic rock
granite
made smooth by two generations
of the mano
before I was born here in L A

Jimenez spent long, careful minutes
powdering chiles
in the old kitchen in Echo Park
I am not so patient
he rarely talked
I don't know what he thought
of blue eyed grandchildren
but they love tomatillo

tell her you want tomatillo
standing here in the pushed, harried evening
I know what to do with the fruit in that bowl
if it sits there long enough to get soft
I'll have to throw it out
grant me an evening of peace
to make salsa de tomatillo

Mary Jimenez, 1992
revised March 2008