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The Reckoning
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Assiduously avoiding all signs of fall
I am savoring every flavor
Of this most beautiful summer
Hoarding the treasure like a thief
Figs bursting like a jewel box
Amethyst plums in my pockets
Like a party crasher
I devour everything at the banquet
Warm ruby ripe tomatoes basil and balsamic
Salty emerald pesto strands slipping through my lips
I smile at the invited guests
A sweet topaz corn kernel dangling from my chin
The juice of jade tarragon chicken drips through my fingers
Ignoring the signs of fall and failing
I look over my shoulder for the reckoning
And feel the chill from an open door
(c) RIPRODUZIONE RISERVATA
6:08 pm
I found myself thinking of those crazy wonderful Arcimboldo paintings — food as portrait — while reading this. Then, with a sudden gust of cold air, Arcimboldo in full sensual tilt was transformed into Hieronymus Bosch imagining hell. Brrrrrrr.
8:36 pm
You’re loaded for bear tonight, M. I was thinking more in terms of Peter Sellers. ; )
3:07 pm
…and I cannot read the name Arcimboldo without thinking of Saltimbanco.
4:46 pm
And thank you for your comment. I am always honored by your references to great works next to mine, like the delightfully imaginative Arcimboldo and the emotional impact of Bosch.
1:43 am
You do have a magnificent way of lacing the sense of taste into your imagery, Kerry! This poem is very tactile, very immediate.
8:20 am
Thank you Craig! It’s very nice to hear from you.
1:56 pm
And feel the chill from an open door. What a wonderful full stop to put on any summer.
What’s for pudding?
2:45 pm
Pearl tapioca. ; ) Thanks Zambo!