“Beet” by Robert Samarotto
Queen of the garden
you rise from the poverty of earth
you wound me with your ripening
bringing your sweetness nearer my hunger.
All night — my little bonfire — you keep me awake,
all night I burn in flames of jealousy.
I am suspicious of all your vegetable lovers,
the way they mingle their roots with yours.
Rain washing over you scalds my soul.
Your leaves dancing to the wind drive me mad.
I envy the beetle — the worm — the slug,
vines that creep in the night.
O heart of hearts
listen to my vegetable talk.
Come with me to the cutting board
let me discover your charms — slice by slice.
Leave me with the stain of summer on my hands
— then like Macbeth
will I prepare for a winter’s madness.
Thanks to Lauren C for sharing that delirious poem.