acorn



     so this is what it comes to:
     the bitter acorn breaking open,
     born from our separation, this seed.
     unearthed after winter, it is
     time to feast.  we'll grind
     its hard heart into a water-filled
     pulp that may sustain in summer,
     season of parched solitude.  bring
     corn and rice, what i always wanted,
     your tendency to burst forth from a
     creative center and your soft nature, 
     unexplored.  let me bring nothing, for 
     i am weary of hauling cornucopias,
     unbidden.  the entertainment 
     will be ourselves, the slight 
     ringing of metalware as we
     eat our acorn.  the abundance
     will sustain us.



     --jennifer crystal chien