Poetry readings often include something poetry collections do not—context. The context of this poem is that Ricky was preparing an elegant sauce, and that in the course of shoving bell peppers down into the blender with a fork … well, you see the result. This poem was my take on the spectacle, which took place in January of this year.
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| Photo Ricky Garni. |
Your fingertips skim passion red pepper cheeks arousing zest
for sweet life on your tongue. At your behest, cool water
would refine their lust unto muffled sighs of crisp yearning
neath taut smooth skin reflecting light from above
the kitchen sink as in your hands they offer themselves
in full abandon, innocent of reason, trusting your lips
to take them to the warm succulence of Providence.
With priestly aplomb, you steady the quiver of their taut,
slippery desire
on the old rugged wood and their lip longing flesh meets steel
resolve
dividing them into trembling helices wavering twixt gore and glory
awaiting only your touch. You gather their wavering slivers and
they soar
raptured in your embrace that forsakes them to gravity.
Freefalling, they
undulate into the blender to meet blade upon blade whereupon, lest
they
slidder away, you plunge into their ribs the tines of destiny and
thus
they gave up their ghosts and gore upon their Lord.
~ PCM 1/28/2014
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