Lost Pepper, Roots of Evil

Lost Pepper

While clawing at the ground,

I think I uncovered history. As others

were digging up bones,

I discovered a miniature bottle

of Tabasco sauce

and a rusty blade.

My brother, the expert, says it’s a piece of crap,

but it cuts. The tiny bottle

makes his mouth water.

He covets the burn—lost pepper, vinegar,

salt in a wound—

sustained in sediment.

I wonder how long it has aged,

savor the burn.

-

Roots of Evil

Picking out parsnips and turnips,

I decide to surprise you 

with extra beets.

I know how their sweet blood pleases you.

When it drips from your lips,

I realize how ironic it is for a vampire

to be vegan.

You wipe some juice away, 

and I pretend not to notice.

You suffered through two root

canals so your hallowed fangs 

would not show.

This is how you cancel your past.

But if I 

discover a coffin in the cellar,

or find you sleeping while

hanging upside down from the ceiling,

I will regret not buying 

garlic cloves or 

rainbow carrots instead.

-

"Lost Pepper" and "Roots of Evil" were published in Issue 12 (Fall 2015) of local Dayton journal Mock Turtle Zine. 

Past issues of Mock Turtle can be viewed online.

Eric