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Breaking Fast
Karen Locascio
I have a taste for the tart, for blue and rasp. Most berries are not true. Get on your
hands and crush them. Sticky fingers and print my skin and thumb my lip. Peel
clementines and slide their math between my teeth. I was told as a child that if
I swallowed a fruit seed it would grow in my stomach. I imagined lemon trees,
watermelon vines, my insides overrun with roots. I thought it was like the seed I was told
a man planted in a woman when they were in love. Kiss me in autumn, pod and rind
and wait for spring. A berry is an orb, soft firmness around the iron core of seed. Will my
belly grow translucent with you, a globe of melted snow? Or will I collapse in on myself,
all clacking storm-stripped limbs? Feed me cherries, pitted deceptions. Feed me berries
laced with lies. I drop to my knees, rip up rose bush and bramble. Feed me straw and I’ll
set fire to everything.
2 Comments
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“Breaking Fast,” is everything I want a prose-poem to be (and more)–it’s sensual and tactile, sumptuous and indulgent, mellow and tart–all at once in a joyful table set for the reader to feast. I was reminded of Karen Volkman’s poetry (herself a mistress of the prose poem) and treated to Karen’s own unique spins on language and heady imagery. The power of the poem’s penultimate line: “Feed me straw and I’ll/set fire to everything,” is one that I’ve re-read dozens of times now, and I have to say–with every reading, I like it more and more, and feel that fire rising as the poem build, line by line. A banquet of words, prepared especially for the reader to enjoy. Savor each morsel.
Wow, Allie! Thank you so much for your beautiful comments on my poem. I’m not familiar with Volkman but I’ve put her on my reading list. I love learning about new-to-me poets and diving into their work.