21 Jul
2015
Posted in: Poems
By    Comments Off on Even…

Even…

 

I’m feeling prickly today. Poetry, I think, is what’s called for.

My Species
by Jane Hirschfield

even
a small purple artichoke
boiled
in its own bittered
and darkening
waters
grows tender,
grows tender and sweet

patience, I think,
my species

keep testing the spiny leaves

the spiny heart 

Comments are closed.