Artichoke Hearts

Teeth scrape bitter leaves,

tongue away the gel across your teeth

smile

offer up a steamed heart

pierced

on the tip of your fork

so temptingly vulnerable

easy to rip between grinning canines

gnash

between grind mill molars

pick another

pull at the leaves

swallow the good stuff whole

put the bones in compost.

Stick your hand

back in the pot.

Evaluate the feast,

drop the fork.

Your hands steam

welted

relentless

prying still

fingering the supple fruit,

searching for relief in its juice.

You glance across the table over a porcelain plate

empty and

wanting

smoldering itself

with desire.

An appetizer

before the main course.