For the Birds

Cathryn Essinger

At the farmer's market the grocer has decided 

 to give me a Bible lesson as I fumble for（摸索，瞎摸） my wallet 

 to purchase a squash. 

This one is called the Crown of Thorns, he says, 

to remind us of the cross, and here are ten spokes, 

 one for each of the commandments. 

I give the grocer his money, but my sympathy is 

 with the squash, whose nature has been hijacked 

 by religion. It fills my palm 

with its hefty（重的） promise and I suspect it of knowing 

 the true art of resurrection（复活） -- seeds packed 

 into a sinewy（有力的） cave, 

where the pulp is so fragrant（芳香的） that time holds still. 

 When I split the ovum with a knife I reveal 

 a space so private 

that I am embarrassed to have looked, flesh as pale 

 as the new moon, and an aroma（芳香） so seminal that 

 it stains all thought. 

With the sharp edge of a spoon, I scrape out the seeds, 

 and then holding the soft entrails in one hand 

 throw it all to the birds.