When they taught me to fear the world
I listened.
I read each revelatory word
and strained to cherish
and bury it like treasure.
What I didn’t realize
was that the field I buried it in
was meant to grow little tomatoes.
What could be more wicked than
the engorged flesh of a red and watery orb
that gasps and stretches to caress
a cow’s steaming pile
of ****?