Rutabaga creature (2010), black and silver ink on upcycled acrylic painted textured paper, Sarah Klockars-Clauser, CC BY SA
You darken as my knife slices 
blushing at what you become. 
I save your thick leaves 
and purple skin 
to feed the cows.   

A peasant guest at any meal 
you agree to hide in fragrant stew 
or gleam nakedly 
in butter and chives.  

Though your seeds are tiny 
you grow with fierce will 
grateful for poor soil and dry days, 
heave up from the ground 
under sheltering stalks 
to sweeten with the frost. 

Tonight we take you into our bodies 
as if we do you a favor— 
letting your molecules 
become a higher being, 
one that knows music and art.  

But you share with us 
what makes you a rutabaga. 
Through you we eat sunlight, 
taste the soil’s clamoring mysteries, 
gain your seed’s perfect might.
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