I wrote this poem in response to two different prompts. The first was yesterday’s prompt for my Month of Mindfulness. The second was for Big Tent Poetry’s prompt this week. In this prompt, the author Nathan Landau suggested that we write a poem in code. Once I mashed these two seemingly disparate prompts together, this poem arrived, demanding to be written down.
Some poems are difficult to write. Some I have to craft and eke out word by word. This poem just sort of wrote itself. In fact, it wrote itself so quickly and suddenly that I had to write it while blow drying my hair prior to work this morning. These types of writing moments are so few and far between that I have to pause and recognize how lucky I am when they happen. It’s like committing to mindfulness is working…or something.
Love Note (in Code)
I love you like I love the taste of green.
You are my avocado
and like a spoon, I carve you out.
I love you like the smell of grass at night,
sweet and still warm from the sun.
I love your unripe bits, your rind. I even
love the spots where you’ve gone wild:
your open fields, your weeds.
I love your bitter leaves I am
still and always surprised by you, my mint,
my jalapeño, my fuzzy spot of mold.
I love your spring and bloom, your wither
and your rot. I love you as you allow
me to devour you, you who are always new
and always multitudes to me.