I taste of the earth
Of damp root cellars
And obsolete wombs
Petrified and crisp
My juice wilts the palate
I appear bedeviled
As a shrunken head
With tufts of red-ribboned leaves
And a root that looks
Like a proboscis
I am hard and maternal
Like the cast of a woman’s breast
I am as common as wine
And can be used to make
A spirit comparable to port
I am a gem in vagabond stitch
Staining fingers and lips claret
As if the aftermath
Of a carnvirous feast
I can summon
Love from hearts
As bitter and laminate
As an unripened pomelo
I am a Goddess
A poor man’s dinner
A selection of mummified testicles
An asymmetrical top
That wobbles and rolls
But cannot fluently spin
I am a crouching Buddha
A farmer’s oyster
A clod of dirt best served
With ham and Dijon mustard
I am the neglected fountain
Of a poorly-expressed youth
I am a runner’s anodyne
I am the celestial pulse
Of a poetical sphere
I am the mighty,
I am the beet
*
I have never written a poem about a vegetable before lol I fear I’ve not done a very good job of it either. Could you guess which vegetable I was referring too? I refereed to beets as the poor man’s oyster because they also effect the libido and are said to work like Viagra. Beets improve stamina and reduce blood pressure hence the reference to the runner. There is also a myth that says if a man and woman share the same beet they will fall in love. I think I was supposed to write a tale but I wrote a poem. This is not part of the 33 autobiographical poems I wish to write beets do not figure that strongly into my life lol
This was written for
mindlovemisery 