Returning to Poetry
Wednesday, June 4th, 2008
Of Radish Tops on a Plate
There you are
4 buttons of purple-y red and pinky-white
Little disks of salad enhancement
Feathery green remnants on top
So simple, yet
Enough to make a meal just that
much hotter.
Like when I took your hand in mine
and you thought I was about to be sweet
But I slid your fingers
between my own just-washed, but not dried
gentle fingertips, and opened my
pretty mouth.
And popped you in, sucking a little with a shy smile.
It was unexpected
And a little bit, just a little bit, naughty.
Your hands are one of my favorite delicacies.
(I never did hear you object to such
playfulness.)
So, after that came a more spicy advance,
And that salad never did get made properly.
We ate greens with radishes anyway.
And I threw in black olives for good measure.
You threw in the dish towel and succumbed to my wicked game.
Thank God for that.
A. M. Lehr June 2008
