A Matter of Taste

Grandmother said to feed him well

The way to a man's heart is through his stomach

I pick up a paring knife and chop freshly washed carrots

with a smart clunk clunk against the cutting board

Slice away the layers of lettuce protecting its heart

Peel the layers of emotions guarding my heart

If a man accepts your food offering he loves you

But while I aim for his stomach

firing bullets of broccoli steak and potatoes

he shoots straight to my exposed soul

He says women are like fruit and the bruised

areas are the softest taste the sweetest

where the succulent juices pool under the skin

He says a if a woman bleeds for you she loves you

Grandmother never told me what a man prefers to eat

(First published in The Lake UK)