The box of pears
arrives with instructions:
unwrap foil,
test for softening
at the stem,
take a bite
and let what
can’t be caught
drip onto the silver
you’ve torn.
Leave it there
to follow the moon.
Step back
and ask
what the moon
is doing
in your kitchen.
The moon
that is not a poem
or rock
or face . . .
Do you mind it there?
Thank you.