Peppers, after "Onions" by William Matthews (revised a bit)

How easily happiness begins by
picking peppers. At the grocery store
browsing the apples (Fujis, Pink-
Ladies, Granny Smith's), the cukes
dreaming of pickles. Then peppers.

Hands could spend an eon
tracing these creases
with the simple care of a lover
or a professional cook,
diving, then, into a cave of
inward depths and removable
stalagmites:

then the sweetness
of an orange one;
the tender crunch of a red
that stains the mouth
when eaten whole;

then splitting it
open, how it howls
& stops suddenly as if it sunk
back into the soil;
and dipping it in sauces

and watching it wither & brown
in the frying pan --
too long but still good
in a stir fry; and the taste
of oil on your hands

as you lick your fingers clean
and set the table for dinner.