opened the fridge door;

olives trembled in their jar

 

not saying much, I know.

 

thing is—

I’d opened it a zillion times

and never really noticed:

 

sleek round floaters

unperturbed in their green olive skin, unblemished

motivated little bodies swimming along in a glass house

 

those olives

hadn’t tasted that great the last time

but I leave them, sitting

still.

(mighty is she

who justifies the invasion

of murky waters, so

unrevealing.

and mightier still who lurks to taste.)

 

all this, my love

just to tell you—

 

I loved you as though we were that:

the mating of olive and almond

I loved you as though it was that:

the chucking of pit for a nut.