Brussel Sprouts
No one likes you.
Your family comes
out of the ground
like some alien,
green bean stalk.
I fight incessantly
To avoid you.
You follow me
too closely and
I can never seem
to break off from you.
I don’t know what
you expect from me.
Perhaps to say
that I am wrong
to judge you
without tasting you.
Is that it?
Fine, come here.
let me rip you
free from your cluster
of friends and family.
Not so tough now
are you?
Fill the pan
with golden oil
and pig fat.
carve you into
quarters so you
can’t fight back.
Sautee you until
you’re plump and crisp
and fit rightly
into my malevolent,
masticating mouth.
Then return again
to my plate to
eat a friend.
Or perhaps I
will tear off your
jade jackets,
bit by bit,
and torture you
to make it clear
that I can’t stand you.
Your exquisite essence.
Your tantalizing texture.
Your cool color.
Hmmm,
maybe I don’t
hate you after all.
-Zach Retterath
