Tom washes the minerals first
before putting them on the table.
That way they gleam among the leaves.
Tom’s wife sets the peas down
gently in the midst of quartz.
his son surrounds the potatoes with bauxite.
Mealtimes are reminders, says Tom,
of a beautiful marriage
between the organic and the mineral.
He patiently longs to consume the mineral.
He wishes his knife could cut into marble,
slicing it. He’d butter it carefully,
salt it, add a little paprika,
swallow it. From then on he’d eat nothing organic.
He’d nibble on the sides of mountains.