Cynthia Chen

Instruction Of Digestion

It is believed a cut is a rearrangement of materials

Serving the purpose of umami–an unlocatable yet precise pleasure

Meaning every letter on the menu will be present in the dishes

E for a slimy texture, O for Cubist plating,

I for an atmosphere prompting unpronounceable wine.

When using a knife to disseminate the product

The angle of invasion demands an instinctive obsession

Which recognizes the pattern in the meal that needs to be replicated

Unabashedly so the system can pass on a stamp approving

Its “appeal” to be widely experienced with different

Seasonings–gustatorial experiments aiming to titrate recipes

That succeed according to non-quantitative criteria like

The shivers up one’s scalp after tasting the residual on the chopsticks

Or a sudden enlightenment that spiciness is a delusion like all opinions

After there is nothing left to be cut into smaller units for applause or exile

A handbook will be generated detailing the relationship between cultivation and germination

Serving as a reference for selective breeding in the kitchens

It will be spread until all products to be cut will be cut

To perform under the command of a chef wearing a hat three times taller of his height

Because the attire of one, like the dominant gene, determines the dislay of falsehood

Leading to a flawless dining experience with the absence of wanting, reaching, or waiting

Now eat

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Cynthia Chen is a writer based in New York, originally from Shanghai. She holds an MFA from New York University. Her writings can be found in SPECTRA, Nodear, The Margins, The Common, Epiphany, and elsewhere. Her work has also been supported by the Community of Writers, Beijing Poetry Festival, and Push the Boat Poetry Festival. She is the poetry editor at Washington Square Review.