Appetite
I eat these
wild red raspberries
still warm from the sun
and smelling faintly of jewelweed
in memory of my father
tucking the napkin
under his chin and bending
over an ironstone bowl
of the bright drupelets
awash in cream
my father
with the sigh of a man
who has seen all and been redeemed
said time after time
as he lifted his spoon
men kill for this.
--Maxine Kumin
(Thanks to Kevin Miller for suggesting I post this one.)
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4 comments:
One of my favorites! I'm loving all these food poems--an anthology in the making?
David -- I am on a roll, eh? I am going to keep going ... many, many more to share.
An anthology: what a great idea!! Can you imagine the permissions requests? I am pulling my hair out just thinking about it.
True--I don't know why anyone ever does an anthology, the permissions process is so awful. & I say that as one who has done one! Maybe one step down from that would be a web page linking some favorites or something like that, a virtual anthology to feast on....
I like very much the notion of a virtual anthology of food poems; it would save me a lot of time to have a bunch of food poems in one safe place--that's for sure! Thanks for suggesting ...
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