James Bertolino


The unutterable
of spiral snails
on the slick surface
of tide-flat mud

was like seasoning:
a side of beef on a spit
with specks of spice dotting
the flesh and fat

turning grandly
like a planet
above the fire.


The neighborhood knew
she had a furred snake,

and if you grabbed hold
and squeezed

it would utter rosehips.
No, not the word, but

those orange pods packed
with seeds. She used them

at the barbecue to spice
the beef kibble.

I ate some and it was good.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh, good. Guess what's on the menu next time you come for dinner?