Her taste is a dead
sea, fed upon/collected
in moderation & excess

buried beneath pressure/
pleasure, she scatters
in pinches & preserves

her name in catechism, in
superstition, in color,
in health, & in trade

her value is greater
than the fragile narratives
of myths, of blessings, &

of vindictive grace

# # #

Photo: Samuel Scrimshaw