Tomatoes After and Before the Frost – Helen Galioto

Mottled mottled skin inspected
Touching knots that breathe in resin
A river of errors concealed with pectin
And attacked inside is Dorian’s image
A rotted molar wrought by a restless tongue’s pickings
“More for mine own eye to see —
Roots and canals ought belong to the trees”
But me, my limbs were made to bend
To pile on damage with their rubber neck
A bouncing voice comes out for the pile’s preservation
Speaking something must die to keep the bathroom mirror sacred.

Mottled mottled skin of the dehydrated
A sign of the untouched securely braided
By unspoken pacts to allow forever
To carry out into holey jars, forever
Forever only will entering air eat
The juices the firmly alive so badly need
Yet shiny shiny skin over there
Knows better than to sit too long in open air
It believes time not to be as sacred as the state
So feast on its youth, don’t let it durate
The moment of youth, a miracle particular
From a milieu of selves, limited and disparate.