To increase her appeal, Aphrodite ate beets.
I consider this as I rub the beets with oil
and wrap them in foil and slide them
into the oven to roast. They pulled out
of the garden soil so easily, round and red
and heavy with sugar. It’s not that I believe
the old stories, but I wonder if they perhaps
believe in me and guide my hands as I slice
the warm beets and drizzle dark coils
of thick balsamic vinegar. My hands
move with desire that is mine
and not mine. My lips turn increasingly
crimson, a crimson that cannot be washed away,
essence of the earth, extravagant with myth.
Love this. Love beets
I love them too, Jan … people usually go one way or the other … cheers!
Hi Rosemerry, I always enjoy reading your poems, but I had to comment on this one: It is mythological, sensual and earthy all at the same time! Delicious to read and to imagine. I read it several times. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Amy, it was a fun one to write. and fun to finally, for the first time ever, have such inspiring beets in my garden!
This is delicious.
You must also be a beet lover âº
Watch my TEDx talk The Art of Changing Metaphors: TEDX Rosemerry Trommer
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
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From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Monday, August 28, 2017 at 11:19 AM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “At the Root of Paradise”