Assiduously avoiding all signs of fall
I am savoring every flavor
Of this most beautiful summer
Hoarding the treasure like a thief
Figs bursting like a jewel box
Amethyst plums in my pockets
Like a party crasher
I devour everything at the banquet
Warm ruby ripe tomatoes basil and balsamic
Salty emerald pesto strands slipping through my lips
I smile at the invited guests
A sweet topaz corn kernel dangling from my chin
The juice of jade tarragon chicken drips through my fingers
Ignoring the signs of fall and failing
I look over my shoulder for the reckoning
And feel the chill from an open door
I found myself thinking of those crazy wonderful Arcimboldo paintings — food as portrait — while reading this. Then, with a sudden gust of cold air, Arcimboldo in full sensual tilt was transformed into Hieronymus Bosch imagining hell. Brrrrrrr.
You’re loaded for bear tonight, M. I was thinking more in terms of Peter Sellers. ; )
…and I cannot read the name Arcimboldo without thinking of Saltimbanco.
And thank you for your comment. I am always honored by your references to great works next to mine, like the delightfully imaginative Arcimboldo and the emotional impact of Bosch.
You do have a magnificent way of lacing the sense of taste into your imagery, Kerry! This poem is very tactile, very immediate.
Thank you Craig! It’s very nice to hear from you.
And feel the chill from an open door. What a wonderful full stop to put on any summer.
What’s for pudding?
Pearl tapioca. ; ) Thanks Zambo!