Chipotle
Sometimes it pauses and the light
translates what we’ve lost,
momentarily framing the taste
entering our bodies through
mouth and nose and eye,
the knowledge of dissolution
enhanced. One bite
and it all returns: fire, peat,
water, the retracted
flesh become another’s
endeavor, as if giving form
to the world of air.
Without remorse,
we steal its most intimate self.
“Chipotle” first appeared here in January 2015.
O at the Edges 
My mouth is watering…I eat so much/many of these I may start to look like them. How extraordinary to find do much in something so small! You, Mr. “O”, are a master!
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Thank you, Linda! I do love these peppers.
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‘So much’
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🙂
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What I like about your poetry is the extreme condensation. You remind me of my wife’s (Ethel Mortenson Davis’s) poetry. She pairs down images and words until they seem almost like diamonds. This particular poem reminds me of the years we spent in New Mexico where they are always asking, green or red?, expecting you to know they are talking about chiles. I enjoyed this.
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Thank you, Thomas. That condensation is what I strive for. Ah, green or red. Hard decision. 🙂
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Delicious!
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And just a tad spicy. 🙂
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Like reading poetry.
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Ha!
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I loved this!
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Thank you!
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🙂
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