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Thursday, October 21, 2004

Good Poems about Food (part 4)



This one's by Aimee Nezhukumatathil, from her Miracle Fruit. (Ah, yet another book with "miracle" in the title, but can't we share?) Actually, there are several delicious foody poems in Aimee's book.





The Woman Who Turned Down a Date with a Cherry Farmer



Of course I regret it. I mean there I was under umbrellas of fruit

so red they had to be borne of Summer, and no other season.

Flip-flops and fishhooks. Ice cubes made of lemonade and sprigs

of mint to slip in blue glasses of tea. I was dusty, my ponytail

all askew and the tips of my fingers ran, of course, red



from the fruitwounds of cherries I plunked into my bucket

and still--he must have seen some small bit of loveliness

in walking his orchard with me. He pointed out which trees

were sweetest, which ones bore double seeds--puffing out

the flesh and oh the surprise on your tongue with two tiny stones



(a twin spit), making a small gun of your mouth. Did I mention

my favorite color is red? His jeans were worn and twisty

around the tops of his boot; his hands thick but careful,

nimble enough to pull fruit from his trees without tearing

the thin skin; the cherry dust and fingerprints on his eyeglasses.



I just know when he stuffed his hands in his pockets, said

Okay. Couldn't hurt to try? and shuffled back to his roadside stand

to arrange his jelly jars and stacks of buckets, I had made

a terrible mistake. I just know my summer would've been

full of pies, tartlets, turnovers--so much jubilee.

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