My parents have the power to make recipes
out of thin air & whatever remains in the
fridge-basket, beans, yam, did you not
bring garlic, I told you to bring garlic,
another yam-  but the secrets that new things
keep from me, keeps me from them-
the proud cherry, royally on cream, is stripped
of its pink pride because we fight for the sponge
of the cake, because that is what we want &
always had, we fight to not-eat the cherry
because we cannot leave it or toss it away
because we have never left it or tossed it away-
each cherry a point in space, why not keep secrets
with them, start with them & move
to the old things they grow on.