One of Life's Pleasures

ONE OF LIFE’S PLEASURES

cutting fruit.

Confident, sharp blade

of the chef,

his clean, ironed apron—

technique

so admired by women.

The easiness of it all.

His swift slice through the earth

opening the cantaloupe.

Watermelon, quartered and hollowed,

tipped, already sliced into a plastic bag.

No mess, no fuss. No cleanup.

I have mine, too.

Triangles of melon.

Long, slim fingers of liquid sugar, iced.

Hand-to-mouth succulents.

Coffee-table elegant, triggers.

The Mouth’s first Ah.

I, too, have had teachers.

The campesina is the first.

At the tourist beach, la playa at Mazatlán.

Holding the pineapple with one hand,

machete in the other, two slices, top and bottom.

Followed by a succession of blades

faster than eye can follow.

Fruit delivered

with the urgency and nonchalance of money.

Delicacy by which she hands the rind

holding still-chewable fruit

to the mother and child, hungry behind her.

The country priest in El Salvador, the other:

We need to find the language, he said,

to convince your wives and daughters

to slip their gold rings from their fingers

by themselves and share them

so we all might have enough.

We want you to help them too.

Fingers taken only by necessity.

Jim Bodeen

25 July 2014

CUTTING FRUIT

Cantaloupe, watermelon

Sharp, confident blade

Sweet, receiving flesh

Jim Bodeen

24 July 2014