Like the painter with no eyes
or an actor lacking tongue
or a quadriplegic racer
or some flightless waterfowl
I am missing something.

That thing feels important
in its absence
but its identity
is difficult to pinpoint.
Perhaps
it is you?

Rather,
I think it’s cumin
but I may be wrong
and it could be something else,
another element that could possibly complete me
leaving me, finally,
after so many years,
a creature of taste.