Food Narratives Poem by Elaine Equi
Food Narratives
We are not used to
thinking food has a past.
Of its picaresque travels -
its days of being manhandled,
its nights spent snuggling
across borders in a burlap sack -
we prefer not to know.
All we ask
when we are hungry
is that it appear,
miraculous as a breast
descending upon us
from a floral sky.
How it came to be there,
hovering like a word
above our lips,
is none of our concern.
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5/18/2024 3:23:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
