Our unexpected encounter
is like finding a piece of carrot cake
in the fridge when I just gobbled
ninety degrees of pizza
So it dawned upon me
that love is not commanded
by appetite or olfactory trigger
it doesn't fluctuate to follow
hormone's hide-and-seek
that I shouldn't be measuring
the length of a tongue
for exhibit A
So what will happen then
if I'm starved and the only thing
I find is an unopened jar of sour pickles
when on ordinary days,
I would shove it behind other packs to expire
I think I should have the kindness
to leave it intact
for someone in the house
who truly desires
its flavor, who seeks it with intent
past the aisles of treats
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem