nthposition online magazine

Bowl & Fructus Artichochi


[ poetry - october 11 ]


As sedate symbol of

to be contained. To hold

inside or out.

As a nest to hide in -
walls soft

lining Meretís teacup
pelt a shock

where sustenance
is sought.

Filled with lemons
flecked with painterly light

and open from above, the circling
view of those who need nothing anymore.

As glass house. Even a simple goldfish
riding along its domesticated

sides, fond of their polish,
can imagine leaping

comically once or
twice, taking a stab

at Red Fish or Blue Fish,
just inside bowl sits

bow, one god
acknowledging another.


Fructus Artichochi

We've put up a new print
Soon enough there'll be a poem
About its pale-green skin,

Venus clammy, blending in
With the walls to make itself indispensable,
The color of anything dying or dead.

How it multiplies its simple
Shape, neatly repeating itself, to disappear
In a flock of upward-pointing wings.

Related to the thistle but never found
In the wild, its bitterness a quiet one
Its beauty afraid.