The Decorative Peasant

Margaret Lindsay Holton

From my vantage boudoir point
of West of Centre —
or Left of Centre —
or Right of Centre —
depending if you politically gaze
on
or out
or in at
I watch the continual
movement, surge
ebb and flow
of urban, suburban, rural
humanity
course along the young blood
of this my Canadian civilization

My own beating heart heaves harmoniously
alternating panic with patience
adjusting to nuances of mechanic
and organic insurgence

I peel
a plumb purple grape
plucked from the cluster bounty
of my small garden
and pop its full bodied ripeness
into my mouth, then after
crave that mysterious
envelope of skin

This shocking discovery
of succulent voluptuousness
disorients profoundly
my hap—hazard analytical
watchful
being
—for a brief instant
the Centre shifts—
as Lifeness ripples rapidly
down to the scarlet tips of
my budding toes

I gaze outward again
to regain my bearings
and yes, all is as it was before
(All was is as it was before)
I furtively pull out another grape
from the clipped cluster
and methodically
peel back
the hardened weather—exposed
encasement of purple epidermis
and once more pop
that fleshy perfect orb inwards
to taste again
sweet nwowness

October 1997

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Margaret Lindsay Holton's works copyright © to the author.