Nourish Me Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

You say he laid a feast before you
Like a master chef at a wedding
Pleasing every epicurean palate
Sating each greedy guest.

I say, Please feed me.
I don't want to feel replete.
I don't want to become drowsy
And torpid and drunk.

Bring me one ripe plum.
Bring me some pungent cheese.
Make me some bitter tea.
And then sit down with me.

Recite your poems in your own voice
In that simple humility that draws me in
And makes me slough off my skin
And invites me to be you for a few lines.

Wrap your seasonal discoveries
In a woven cotton cloth
And I will take it home and open it
Where I can savor every fragrance.

Leave the young man to his upper crust.
Let him spread his delicacies out for all to envy.
I will horde your nuts, your berries, your summer honey
And let them nourish me until spring comes.