Grapes stuffed with summer sunlight,
pumpkins swelling sweetness under thin skin,
roasted garlic, spears of delight,
breads that grow like children,
yeasty of harvested grain,
the treasure of bread, richer than a bank vault,
the mushrooms, secret smells of sex and cellar,
pomegranate's tiny bottles of garnet wine
walnuts containing all the bitter, still
wisdom of the tree, cold rock and cold rain,
the warm bloom of tomatoes,
like the inside of a lover's mouth,
onions, sulfurous, healing stink,
oranges and grapefruits, sour-sweet surprise.

All this is nothing
without the body's consent,
the stomach's willingness to devour,
the guts, lust to burn like flame.

In every cell must be hunger:
the will to learn by desire alone
the flight of birds, feather by feather,
the grain that dies in us to be born again,
the patience of vegetables growing,
the faith of the seed waiting
in earth's darkness.

Karah Stokes lives, writes and gardens in Lexington, Kentucky. Poetry by Karah Stokes appeared in the
first issue of Gumball Poetry as well.
She can be reached by email at karah@gumballpoetry.com

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