THE BOOK OF CABBAGE Poem by Elizabeth Cohen

It took me far too long to open the silken pages
and read the book of the cabbage.
Peruse the pages of its luminous flesh
and consider its smooth, ivory opinions.
In the vegetable aisle of Price Chopper
I felt its heft, the whole planet of it,
It's tough, variegated and squeaky jacket

It had a story which had come up from the dark loam,
traveled with its siblings, captive in a bin,
immigrants to this fluorescent country,
miraculous and solid and sure.

It took me years to read the braille of the cabbage,
where I discovered its natural intelligence, the way it could
instruct bellies to be brim-full, finished with hunger.
Simmered in the pan with a single cleft of garlic,
the thick leaves go soft to the spoon;
inside the mouth, they are wholesome and rubbery