--for Diana
I have forced you to eat the fruit;
you have forced me to grow it.
What a pair we are, growers
and eaters. I spread out plates
of green, seedless grapes,
your eyes swallow them whole.
You may yearn for purple Concord, or
red Merlot, but you eat nevertheless.
We are old, careless,
without men, we sit in hammocks
and eat from our laps. Dressed in flowered
cotton and battered hats, we laugh,
grow fresh salad in the yard and eat.
Cats narrow their eyes at us.
We stare back like neutered queens,
lording it, eating earth, sky
and wild romaine.