She stands in the aisle like reverse Stendhal:
\nfrozen, her hand extended over the mound of apples.
\nApples push into her like the fists of a lover
\nknocking at a locked door, urgent, juicy, plump.
\nIt’s always like this: fruit overwhelms, vegetables
\nscream longing; fresh trout imagines a sizzling grill,
\nbeef lounges in a marinade, ready to sear.
\nShe wants to paint, to cook, to knead warm
\nresistant dough like willing flesh on a cool bed.
\nShe thinks of Warhol overwhelmed by a soup can,
\nwants to find what organized fruit and vegetables
\nbecome when they morph into two-dimensional stasis
\non canvas or paper or stone. She stands in the aisle,
\na canvas studied by curious red apple skins.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I met an artist friend of my daughter’s while food shopping today.(#943) Continue reading