Cilantro

Cilantro
sits
uneasily
on my tongue, tasting

of glossy cookbooks
with grand names

and lists of grander ingredients
leering
at me from the store shelves.

My mother
refuses to believe
what Google says
cilantro is.

And I can only remember
coriander leaves
tasting like the folded
corners

of her diary,
where jotted-down
recipes
still dream of daylight

and the wall
behind the gas stove, sweating
oil and ghee

for years.