It is my one day, my one day
is today to be lifted from the stack
where I’m carefully kept, paper
napkins between us so we don’t
scrape or chip or abrade. I am
lifted and separated, carefully
washed, hands in yellow gloves
feeling my heaviness, for I am not
ordinary glass but crystal imagined
and blown and shaped and cut. I sit
on the table, next to a cutting board,
and I listen to the peeling and paring
and cutting and dicing and halving as
into my interior is emptied apple
oranges tangerines grapes (red and
green) pecans maraschino cherries
and whatever else is deemed worthy
and appropriate. I am covered
in clear plastic and placed in a box
that is cold, not icy but sufficiently,
until I am removed and carefully
carried to the table, where my contents
are spooned out and whipped cream
topped to murmurs of “ambrosia.”
It is my one day.
Over at Tweetspeak Poetry, we’ve been discussing Spin: Taking Your Creativity to the Nth Degree by Claire Burge. One of the suggestions Burge makes in this book is to take an everyday object and personify it in an art form of your choice. To see the discussion and what suggestions and questions others tackled, please visit Tweetspeak Poetry.
And may you enjoy your own ambrosia this Thanksgiving Day.
Photograph by Maliz Ong via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.