Bananas And A Glance Backwards

bananas3

Seven days have  passed

and they’ve  hung from a metal hook

with arched backs and freckled skin

invoking the savagery

 

of a Soutine  painting,  not the same

sensation you feel

when reflecting  on bananas,

 

the monkey slouched

under  palm leaves peeling

their yellow rind — or women draped

 

in flowered cloth

balancing fruit on their heads

with  impeccable grace.

 

Instead, you sense how they hang

helplessly on the counter

waiting to be mashed and mixed

in a glass bowl.

 

Only after they’ve been stirred

into the batter and become

that cake risen to a rectangle

of  spiced mahogany, does the effect change.

Something sweet and handcrafted prevails.

 

The warm scent and  baked surface

becomes polished wood,

a table where my toddler

learned to walk, pulling herself up

and staring at this place

 

where household shapes

swirled in shadow and slid off

the edge  of her flat world. The sun

climbing higher in the sky

and my daughter’s eyes rubbed, rounding off

to afternoon sleep.

 

 

6 comments

  1. Once again you show your talent for bringing a scene to life. I can almost smell the bananas and the finished product.

    Like

  2. Thanks so much Michael,

    I deeply appreciate your thoughtful consideration regarding this poem!

    Stay safe
    my best
    Wendy

    Like

  3. Wendy,

    I love the way you bend gracefully toward the close of this poem,
    merging the thoughts into a single weave made from a golden thread.
    Grand!!

    As ever,
    Sarah

    Like

  4. Dear Merv, Francina and Sarah;

    So glad you all enjoyed this one! I sincerely appreciate your kind thoughts and consideration. They mean alot! Please take care and stay safe!

    My best always,
    Wendy

    Like

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