For the Birds

Cathryn Essinger

At the farmer's market the grocer has decided

to give me a Bible lesson as I fumble for（摸索，瞎摸） my wallet

to purchase a squash.

This one is called the Crown of Thorns, he says,

to remind us of the cross, and here are ten spokes,

one for each of the commandments.

I give the grocer his money, but my sympathy is

with the squash, whose nature has been hijacked

by religion. It fills my palm

with its hefty（重的） promise and I suspect it of knowing

the true art of resurrection（复活） -- seeds packed

into a sinewy（有力的） cave,

where the pulp is so fragrant（芳香的） that time holds still.

When I split the ovum with a knife I reveal

a space so private

that I am embarrassed to have looked, flesh as pale

as the new moon, and an aroma（芳香） so seminal that

it stains all thought.

With the sharp edge of a spoon, I scrape out the seeds,

and then holding the soft entrails in one hand

throw it all to the birds.