Forgotten Yesterdays
The prickly fuzz gives no ether
of something favorable.
A canteloupe has no secrets,
place an unopened melon beneath your nose
and you know to eat it.
Not a kiwi, it's too modest, too humble.
So you smell it and nothing, not a tingle.
But then you slice it open.
It's a smell that skips the olfactory
a smell that permeates the tongue first, as if
you already have tasted it, like a forgotten yesterday.
Sweet and tangible but mellow, so mellow.
You are both hungry and satiated.
Ready and afraid, for it always leaves you guessing.
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see the way it looks so bland, sneaky little fruit, if it didn't look so pregnant I don't think we would eat the things... |
2 comments:
I love this.. and the pregnant comment under the picture. You're making me want some kiwi! Speaking of forgotten yesterdays, my grandma used to sprinkle kiwi slices with sugar and pour evaporated milk over it for our dessert.. yum!
Fresh and raw, you smell a bit like dirt and aging leaves underfoot
A funky edge for my salad
embracing bleu cheese
for a stinky tango
but simmering on the stove
you come alive
a splash of sherry
sends mushroom heaven
billowing by
Floating meekly in my miso soup
As I raise the cup to my lips
You promise a depth
that will not disappoint
The odor of something
decidedly rich to come.
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