grief that tastes of absent ice cream bars at the airport,
what is a welcome back to a hometown without a beloved tradition?

a perfectly sweet candy, 
gummy to the mouth, 
but sticking to the teeth.
konjac eaten too quickly can catch and choke.
gulp it down so that you can save yourself,

and enjoy the sticky-sweet saccharine taste layered on the tongue.

at a half-empty home, take the wrapped candies, 
one by one, 
from the repurposed tin box
that sits on the memory of the wooden shelf,
crinkled and bright.

hold them in cupped hands, 
and wait.

return to the home where memories gather.

dried red dates.
if eaten too quickly its sharp pointed seed can get lodged in the throat.
carefully eat around the woody stone,
the light crunch giving way to the spongey, rich chew.

ask for another

memories of past sweets signal a return of the grief.

and another, and another, and another.