on the floor
recovering from yoga
I listen to the marbled glass ceiling light
the waves playing a soundtrack
from a 1980’s cult movie
old world Baba Cool
Only a handful of people I know
would probably remember that film
and today on
The Other Side of the World
my friend
buried her son.
  The Time When I Brought Chengdu Peaches to Singapore

Between my fingers
this poem
not so distant from a peach
Peel it
hang it below one nostril
wok fragrance in other nostril
Have you ever tasted
the swollen peaches of Chengdu?
so much more flavor
than the muzzled fruit of the West
Packed carefully
lucky red box
ready for Singapore landing
friends and family
urgently feast
But at our table
untouched fruit and
your withering question,
“How was China?”
rot then, my gift
  Biking Mater Nostrae 
Plump mound of Venus
Orange lace legs
Toffee colored saddle
Thrusting nose
Denim mini dress
Pregnant belly
High heels pumping
It’s a Bagel

Some concept, poem or bagel
garlic versus sesame, makes me
worry openly about longevity.
But I know for either one
the road is a short, seasoned trail.

Just a half dozen or even several thousand
ceremonial bagels and prospecting poems
all dolled up for judgement day
routinely buried with niceties
and a tad of suspicion, gosh -
all those calories.
Yet someone might unearth my poems,
wondering what the fuss was all about
many years later, extract and stroke
in vain the damp bagel bones
upon which my words once hung.
Copyright Persephone Abbott November 2021