Oh my Double Thick Pork Chop,
my Prawn Tequila-kissed,
Most Pico of Pico de Gallos:
bless your brain —
its fluids & aqueducts, its ventricles
the little fountains splashing.
Bless your arms which hang,
outstretched, in sleep,
as if conducting an orchestra,
a tune I'll never know.
Bless your capillaries
like the roots of Early Girls,
your large intestine like dozens
of miniature knackwursts.
Bless your liver, its 500 functions.
Bless your sternum, your scapula —
heck: bless all your 206 bones.
Someday you'll understand the humor
of an opening refrigerator eliciting
the Pope's voice, the irony of a logging saw
painted with grizzly bears, towering conifers,
a bright blue river, but for now I'll have to settle,
my Sugar-Cane Showered Scallop, my Swimming Angel,
for your smile which says Braised Chicken,
Cilantro Dumplings, Romaine's Most Tender Hearts.