Lotus Root

by Lynn Levin

Loving the hard – to – love,
I sought your human feet.
At the Chinese grocery you lay
in a bin pond – mucked
like dredged – up shoes.
Few shoppers choosing
you for their red baskets.

I washed you, peeled off
your brown socks
cut through the nowhere tunnels
of your nowhere escape routes.
Cut more.  Found more nothing.
Your slices — all those holes —
covered the butcher block
like CAT scans of forgetfulness.

On the tongue, not much to brag about —
you tasted like jicama, raw potato.
But braised with sugar
and rice wine vinegar
you turned softer, more picklish.
No longer your old self
I liked you better.