the pomegranate’s decimation
arils loosed from the yellow membrane
pith pocked and pocketed
spread across the plate Aapa
gave us on our wedding day
my daughter, my panniq, picking at the crimson
carapace, her graceful small fingers
examining each aril between finger and thumb
before she consumes it, just so
reminds me of crab cooked in winter
my uncles letting loose
their catch across the tile floor
the clatter as thin tine toes
chased us
and later the bodies’
carapace—craggy corniced interiors
the inner sanctum
the source of life
the sacred centering
cathedral
of appreciation
have I done enough to deserve this
I hold each memory
the December light flickers out
between the dark damp trees
I watch my daughter, my panniq, as she is this moment
Copyright © 2020 by Carrie Ayagaduk Ojanen. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on April 3, 2020 by the Academy of American Poets.
“In Inupiat tradition, food holds many connections: to the land, sea, the hunters and gatherers, the creatures we eat, the people who prepare it. This poem reflects on those connections and my deep gratitude to those who have shared food with me—and my hope that, despite significant changes to our way of life, I am passing this gratitude on to my children.”
—Carrie Ayagaduk Ojanen
Carrie Ayagaduk Ojanen
Carrie Ayagaduk Ojanen is the author of Roughly for the North (University of Alaska Press, 2018). She lives in Maple Valley, Washington.