gentle flavoured grains
sweet fresh rice.
almond blossom tea
green and black
the cathedral inside the fig trees
leaves like large hands
and blue black purple figs
ripe and heavy
the heft of grapefruit
tangerine oil, when peel is pulled back
scent of lemon in my hands
bay laurel leaves, definitive green
juniper berries and pinecones
their nuts burrowed deep inside
Quince perfumes house at dusk
leave me wandering
in oily night blooming jasmine.
One crushed cardamon pod at the bottom of inky thick coffee
hot and dark
shiny with ferocious oil
caramel buttery salty
like paint on cheek insides
a woman’s face against mine
or green almond husk
plums with reds and purples
flesh and skin
sour and sweet
love affair with citrus.
the dream of bergamot
one shot of Royal Mandarin juice
limes and kumquats
whole and wagon wheel shapes
quarters, eighths, whole.
Crunchy Hot toast
Crab apple, autumn scented
pears picked once
cold, green, ready.
A Comice’s fair complexion
bruised by insults uttered
Walnuts and dried fruit compotes
mittens and woolen scarves.
the cherry that protects its stone
and one tiny almond lives within it.
bees who sex flowers to fruit
Thick Arms on Mango Trees
pulp and juice to my elbow
i’ll take green or ripe guavas
challenging loud seeds between uncertain teeth
lychees in porcupine skin
k’nippes camouflaged in their own canopy.
the most delicate of all
needing sun but not heat
rain but not downpour
bees not birds
fingers but not hands
o raspberry, where art thou?
mosquitoes in ears, on sweaty neck
blue-purple stains every which way
the pleasure is grand
but fleeting -
smooth and seedless
exquisite small strawberries
crawling on the ground to find you -
Summer drunks me with berries promise.
Clamming in Long Island with my Grandfather
they spit and pee and pull you down
The immense strength of mollusk
Seagulls repeatedly dropping from great heights
smashing open tightly sealed lips
our roof a beach
the ground outside the door, white
My mother feeding me the salty sea
connected to swimming in ocean alive
sand sharks against shins
schools of fish turning in unison
inquisitive little fishes nibbling toes
learning to drive boats first
salted eyelashes and brows
smoked gold fish for lunch.
lox and bagels
and what does that fish look like?
Scales stuck to my clothes like sequins
guts on the dock
birds at its wooden edge, eager.
Flounder is flat
the swordfish above my bed is very blue
lobster was always delicious
steamers and their liquor
hot roiling boiling steamy sea
chewy, soft, gritty, sweet.
My love for you
as delicious as
– March 2001
April is Poetry Month.
For more poems by Shuna Lydon, check in with Eggbeater through this link all month.
Category: dessert and chocolate