Second Encounter: Twenty Years Later


“Black Radish”

Your bulb is so dark.

I rub you with my chemise cloth,

expecting your bright red skin to shine

as I remove your muddy coat.

I am disappointed.

Your complexion remains an indeterminate shade of brown.

Perhaps your red membrane was sloughed off in the womb,

and is now buried deep in the ground beneath my feet.

I waited as you grew round there

in a protective shell of soil.

You emerged from your gestation,

born into the palm of my hand,

still encased in the color of the earth.

Striations of the purest white scarcely reveal the sharp flesh beneath.


Comments (2)


Thanks, Fran! I love your blog, too.

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