think of the calabash
its bitterness & poison fruit
what fine bowls it desiccated makes
what is good what is forbidden
& what all these other fruits
do grow & could we pluck them
hands who helps are helped
who was ever ripe & right
in the season of falling ladders
or ladders held by friends or rungs
left in abandon
here
now night interrupts
dropping its astral baskets of fruits joyously
bruising & sharing & providing for each of us
night picnic-ers
here
this blanket unrolled
this wicker woven
for us the dawn drawn up
root trunk bough & fruit
pluck burn climb weed eat it
all things are possible
thou mayest
here
only now
in the noon’s passing hour
do we accept
& give thanks
for this daily each each other’s bread
—
Aby Kaupang is the author of Radiant Tether, and there’s you still thrill hour of the world to love, NOS, disorder not otherwise specified (with Matthew Cooperman), Little “g” God Grows Tired of Me, and multiple other collections. She holds master’s degrees in creative writing and occupational therapy.
