From Across the Café
If this poem were the bowl of pears,
persimmons and pomegranates,
on the table pushed flush
against my sternum, pinning me
to my seat in this Italian heat,
we might never grow old, plying
each other with day and reasons
to devour. Desire must be chewed
before it’s consumed, fingered by
the soft pads of want. On this plate,
I need only balance the sweet
with the savoury, the ratio of pepper
to oil. Today we are alive
in summer. Unencumbered.
Today I won’t write poems
about yesterday, only your face,
plums, jam on bread and butter.
The pitch of pleasure that presents
itself like weeping. Tomorrow hangs
like the apricots from the tree
just outside the window. Let the wind
choose our fate. Come, eat with me.
Today, the only question, do we
choose yoghurt or cream?
About the Creator
Omotara James is the author of “Song of My Softening,” from Alice James Books. A multidisciplinary artist, she creates as a means to preserve joy, confront the past and free herself of it.
Follow @omotarajames & inquire at omotarajames.com
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