Perhaps consider
poetry
a gourmet grocery
shop,
endless pyramids of
shape-shifting fruit:
persimmon, star
flower, pomegranate –
and across the aisle
in hand-woven oval
baskets:
Vietnamese coriander,
Thai basil, Chinese leaves.
Experiment without
knowing
the exact region where
the pomegranate is
grown
the pronunciation of
the Chinese leaf.
But donŐt set out to
deceive
the check-out girl;
you canŐt pretend that
youŐre
a kumquat or a
chanterelle.
And get away with it.
Instead, practice
rapture –
and inquisitiveness,
pose
a question to the
golden
beet, the artichoke
heart;
engage with a yellow
fin.
The page relies
on the clean
attempt
to move beyond the
safe way.
Where is the
ineffable?
Bring home a mango
polish it with Kosher
salt.
Originally published
in 5 AM