Going down the path of pleasure, I take
a pistachio, pick it apart with my fingers.
Those too shy to show a little skin will yield
when pried with empty-shell point or knife.
From this dis-assembly line, cargo lands in mouth
to be macerated, savored for seconds, swallowed,
my hands already working on the next nut.
I first met pistachios as a child, in ice cream,
and was not impressed, but my adult palate
savors their salty complex of creaminess
and crunch, surprising me each time I open
these pale-green pops of pleasure.
In my twenties, I found them listed in a tiny tome,
The Munchies Cookbook. Featuring foods not apt
to give more girth, it reasoned the time and effort
to open each nut would keep calorie count low.
Today, quarantined, nowhere to go, in a Zen mood,
I can pick pistachios apart, one by one, all afternoon.
Erna Kelly
Erna Kelly is a retired English professor (UW-Eau Claire). Her poem, Molt, will be part of the Wausau Arts Center’s 2023 Poetry Month window display. Her poem Yellow was given an honorable mention for the March 2023 Wilda Morris challenge. Published poems can be found in Poetry Hall, The Aurorean, Bramble, and several Ariel Anthologies.
Portage Magazine 