The Girl Who Ate the National Park
Today I present an old poem, written at least a decade before "Doubts". What this poem lacks in poetic format, and style, it reaps in sentiment.
Enjoy:
the Girl Who Ate the National Park
I was picking apples, from polystyrene
boxes, when she held aloft a spiky
green football and her excited voice
asked, “What do you call this?”
She named it durian. I didn’t know,
and pulled a lettuce from its packing.
Harvested multigrain rolls
from bakery bins, and hunted
sandwich ham from fridges.
I laid our picnic mat down
amongst market gardens, and planted myself
to grow in her company. Uncorked
a shiraz in a vineyard, and savoured
her smile. Pulled an apricot from the cooler,
in an orchard, and hungrily
consumed her words.
She took to the park's paths
like shopping aisles. Selecting ingredients
for a salad from green foliage shelves.
She chose a duck dish
as it flew above us, and decided on a fish,
as we watched it swim
beneath the waterfall.
Then as we left, she created a desert
from the trees.
Her touch stopped me. Rooted
me to the spot, where we ravenously
embraced. Our feelings blossoming
around us. Forming a canopy
which we took shelter under,
and bore fruit, that we ate together.
Our appetites sated.
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