I have eaten anything and everything
since the day I was born.
Mashed peas and carrots then
chicken, steak and pork.
I have eaten women and friends,
I have drank all the wine and
cursed them for not having more.
I have eaten anything and everything,
teeth toward the world.

But now,
something so small and unforgettable as to have almost not been seen at all,
a glance from you,
a smile,
falls upon me,
not with lightness of leaves
but with the weight of trees
and the realization
that I have no natural defenses
weakens my knees and so I beg you
please, don’t eat me.