Minced Vegetables In Poetry Soup

Do you think that I mince my words like one preparing a pot of soup— dice it up and roll it in!— the more floating fragments, the merrier, no matter the mishmash to the tongue? And how attractive to the eye a carrot sliced to bright orange shreds, seasoned with a dash of ketchup or Tabasco as long as it’s red. A finely chopped onion can make your eyes tear, but do you really cry? And with too many scents in the cauldron the nose knows not which way to savor, so may not even try. I crave something simple, connected whole like grapes before they desiccate— they hang so ready from the vine. They must be chosen, held, adored before they’re stomped and pressed and stored, preferred by palettes greater in a later sip of time. June 21, 2016 for Minced Words Contest