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Poem

in every pack of pistachios there are
one or two shells which are resistant to
the fingernail the addictive leverage
the satisfying splitting apart

you put them aside and save them for later
meanwhile pick, click, chew and finally
return to the awkward ones
refusing to yield their treasure

curse them go ahead curse them you won't
be defeated, you will solve their riddle
you will break their will
maybe they can be persuaded
by tiny hammer or rolling pin

we don't have a rolling pin
but don't we have a nutcracker somewhere
there was one at christmas, and
something else happens more wine
a movie some family business and the
two nuts stay on the edge of the table

waiting to be splintered or just tossed in
the trash in the cold morning light

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