Celery as muse

by Jessica Perini on the occasion of Catherin’s birthday

You can’t force poetry
It (mostly) comes unbidden.

The best you can do is
Lay down railway tracks
In the hope inspiration’s train arrives
                                    –          Then wait.
Sometimes
Madness sways you
to scribble
quixotic dreams
before they mist.

Sometimes
A knife slashes memory
To a blank.
You stare at the desk
Dust motes settle
Unburned sage
Scraplets
stale on wood

You asked for a poem
But I sit
Staring at a mount, nay, a hill! of celery seed
Breathe it in
Wonder
At the thousands I could feed
Else could I cook it,
a condiment
in celery-inspired stew
Made of necessity
boundless spore to share.

An atom’s nucleus
But poetry
Really no.
A skeleton
but no clothes
A lighter
but no spark.

May as well go make dinner.
Walk the dog to the post
Stand in line.
As she cries at me
two feet distant.

Words and photo by Jessica Perini 2025