Written for Paul Brookes' ekphrastic challenge - one poem a day in April 2021.
Guacamole
An avocado never failed to satisfy
his senses. He had gone to market early
to select the best and banter in bad Spanish
with Manuel, who had taught
him how to find the perfect fruit.
The dark wrinkled skin, still firm
in his hand, the blade biting
into flesh that just gave way,
taking care when it met the pit;
ten cuidado! the warning from Manuel.
The supporting cast - firm scallions,
with trails of hair, sliced in rings. Luscious
ruby tomatoes, hitting him with scent
before his nose got near. Lime, sharp
and fresh, heightened with a dash of salt
and heat of Cayenne. He filled his bag
to the sound of Manuel laughing
with his next parroquiano. Later, eating
while watching boats slide in and out
of the harbour he thought how much better
this simple meal became than the sum
of such disparate parts.
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