On the Shelf With Expired Spices

One quarter teaspoon

is all they ever took from me.

That was five years ago.

I hope they enjoyed their berry poplava

on the occasion of their seventh wedding anniversary.



Nearly empty. I have sat here nearly empty

for six summers now. Replaced but

never depleted. Many dry rubs, countless

marinades, needing more than I have to give.



I hide. My label always turned away,

I evade detection and linger always

between the celery seed and the

celery salt. I'm the helper of many dishes

but the hero of none.