Ode To The Artichoke

 The artichoke 
With a tender heart 
Dressed up like a warrior, 
Standing at attention, it built 
A small helmet 
Under its scales 
It remained 
Unshakeable, 
By its side 
The crazy vegetables 
Uncurled 
Their tendrills and leaf-crowns, 
Throbbing bulbs, 
In the sub-soil 
The carrot 
With its red mustaches 
Was sleeping, 
The grapevine 
Hung out to dry its branches 
Through which the wine will rise, 
The cabbage 
Dedicated itself 
To trying on skirts, 
The oregano 
To perfuming the world, 
And the sweet 
Artichoke 
There in the garden, 
Dressed like a warrior, 
Burnished 
Like a proud 
Pomegrante.
 
And one day 
Side by side 
In big wicker baskets 
Walking through the market 
To realize their dream 
The artichoke army 
In formation.
 
Never was it so military 
Like on parade.
 
The men 
In their white shirts 
Among the vegetables 
Were 
The Marshals 
Of the artichokes 
Lines in close order 
Command voices, 
And the bang 
Of a falling box.
 

But 
Then 
Maria 
Comes 
With her basket 
She chooses 
An artichoke, 
She's not afraid of it.
 
She examines it, she observes it 
Up against the light like it was an egg, 
She buys it, 
She mixes it up 
In her handbag 
With a pair of shoes 
With a cabbage head and a 
Bottle 
Of vinegar 
Until 
She enters the kitchen 
And submerges it in a pot.
 

Thus ends 
In peace 
This career 
Of the armed vegetable 
Which is called an artichoke, 
Then 
Scale by scale, 
We strip off 
The delicacy 
And eat 
The peaceful mush 
Of its green heart.

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