Preserves

Let’s make it last
like jam. We need more sweetness
than comes natural to us,
but no added pectin--our rinds, our cores,
all that the careless eaters throw away,
contain enough to stabilize us.

A fresh vegetable holds a sum
of nourishment, some too tightly locked
in cellulose to meet the eater.
A long-pickled vegetable has unlocked cells.
Let’s make it last like that.

Freshness never stays, but it can ferment
into something more intoxicating.

Preserving comes
less natural than rot.
We don’t want love in a tin can.

But won’t we find more change
in fifty casks of one year’s wine
than as many seasons of fresh grapes?
(That is, as many seasons as we get
when the getting’s good.)

Oh, but we’re young.
Promises can’t know what’s coming,
and there’s special poison in
what you tried to preserve but didn’t.
Botulinum only keeps you young in a needle.

At least, I can make it last like last year’s flower:
pressed between the pages of a book.