Eggplant

I’ve seen you, and your pore less, silky, plum, skin.

I’ve never seen you in person.

Your miserable glow smeared on my Father’s cheek;

Her silhouette, gawky and string-bean beautiful in a sundress add.

It’s hard to believe that I once was you; or so they tell me.

But I am skeptical.

So I’m forever asking if this could be true.

“Dear produce, you remind me of someone.

You couldn’t know them could you?

Of course not you only share complexion.”

And the serious vegetable woman shoos me away.

No whispering to our harvests of lost continents!

My dear heritage, thank your envoy, the eggplant.