Empty Plate

Warm cheese lazes between flaky layers of filo made once 
a year. Grape leaves, homemade paklava with sweet syrup, 
tinged with lemon. Early remnants of an Armenian diaspora 
in a modern land. Warmth radiates off bone china teacups, 
fills the room. My stocking feet sink into plush carpet. 
One holiday table was not enough, we needed two. 

At seven, another set of relatives arrive. Turkey peeks
out from lavash bread, pistachios cracked open, 
dried apricots tang my tongue. Pomegranate, our ruby,
its juicy nectar a jewel. Table fully extended. This is how
we hold on to each other and the past. 

I barely speak to two of my brothers. 
There’s only one table now. 
I still taste it all. 

M.L. HEDISON

M. L. Hedison is an emerging poet and former advertising creative director and writer. Since her first publication, in 2025, her work has appeared in SWWIM and ONE ART; other contributions are forthcoming in the Cimarron Review and Calyx. She lives in the coastal town of Wakefield, Rhode Island. More information can be found at mlhedisonpoetry.com.