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White Asparagus
- University of Wisconsin Press
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White Asparagus How could I not imagine a difference? For one, there was no pain. For another, no fear. Now, bending to choose, I choose the white asparagus for its give, for its beauty, ghostly in the garish store, upright in a teacup of water. I check the ends for splits or slime. I trust it to know where it is tender, and snap the stalks. I know these things. I know this chest, its network of ends, but in the morning, the broken strands are blonde in my fingers, whorled with white.Whatever happened to that old shot in which I lifted up my shirt? It was burned or left somewhere, or it waits in a dark place. To get the pale shade, farmers pile earth over the shoots, refusing them sun, sealing the stems.We waited for light to ripen my face as you held the Polaroid, shook it to bring out tan, deepen the cobalt of jeans. Color spread up. Child, I shed my sweetness the moment you unearthed me. We waited in a dark of our own. -60- ...