Anesthetization Of Pickles

The importance of pickles

Anesthetization Of Pickles

It smells like pickles green in Autumn

Aromas arise like Frankenstein in formaldehyde

Tubular, somewhat spiny, objects plump

Ready to be plucked at midnight

Be not pickled in perpetuity

Be not afraid of the moon in gravity

Be not drowned in your own juices

Harvest arrives on time within the margins

Gardeners gather up the treasures in the fields

On gentle breezes in their mysteries

Command attention to details

Wherein the Earth gives up its riches

Auras of famished women come with hunger

Peculiar are the agencies of pickles

Beyond our comprehension of pregnancy

Textures and substance stand there implied

More than compromised, more than desired

Commingling in the thickening brine

There comes a time for pickles to arrive

Baptized in juices cloudy

In favorable conditions facing south

Towards flavors drenched in dill savory

Splendor is found in jars kept from light

From tidal forces and moons influence

And sun’s petty jealousies

With lids turned right, twisted tight

Held by forces anesthetized

Pregnant with possibilities

Pickles scream at insatiable women

In pain with a blossoming womb

As plump as their cries in child birth allow

And a hunger for life itself consumed

Reviews

[fallon]

I love pickles. The playfulness with pickles in this poem was fun, as it bounced from Frankenstein to pregnant women. I love the line "be not afraid of the moon in gravity".... something about that line spoke to me. As I continued reading I felt like I was smelling pickles as well, so I guess your poem played that trick on my mind. I very much enjoyed reading this. Thank you for the experience.