Your gasp cut through
kitchen summer air
as I pushed the knife blade
 
through the other side:
green-striped skin to green-
striped skin, the halves
 
pulling away, the ruptured
split to the unexpected—
you had only seen glossy
 
pink-red insides over
and over. Imagine waking
to a magenta sky or the grass
 
suddenly blue, the world
turned sideways. Your surprise
when the flesh presented itself
 
marigold, as if the sun itself
was buried in those emerald
walls, waiting for escape.
 
Will it taste the same?
Your mouth found flesh, bit
into delight condensed
 
in impossible fruit. The world
holding itself out to us, slice
after astonishing slice—


From At the Table of the Unknown (Moon Tide Press, 2019).
Used here with permission.