Tuesday, August 6, 2013

A Matter of Taste (Poem)

A Matter of Taste

His Mexican stash sells
au natural, is way better

than any of that junk
in the supermercado.

The snails caught live
and priced at a premium,

fresh hauls of chapulines
to fry up crispy. And not

to be missed: giant-winged
ants, flash-frozen, all

protein, and so delicious
in salsa. His best-sellers

never clog the heart
like those thick armadillo

steaks. Two hundred twenty
-five a pound, las chicatanas

are the real deal. He agrees
the creepy gusanos de maguey

are a matter of taste, shrugs
at the disappearing trays

of invertebrate species
his compadres always raid.

This bug monger's a meat
eater. On the run, he goes

for one more taco, digs into
his Huevos SPAM® Cheros,

dreams of sunny Mazatlan
beaches, one more mezcal.

© 2013 Maureen E. Doallas

This poem is inspired by the "Bottled and Canned" theme this month at TweetSpeakPoetry and Every Day Poems, which are spotlighting the poetry of processed meat (think SPAM®) and by a feature story that appeared in July in my local newspaper The Washington Post. Read the theme's introduction and listen to the playlist.

Translations: supermercado means supermarket; chapulines are grasshoppers or crickets; chicatanas are giant-winged ants; gusanos de maguey are meaty grubs (worms). Mezcal is a type of liquor made from agave. Entomophagy is the scientific term for insect-eating.


nance said...

A good combination of inspiration...

Chris Lawrence said...

Brilliant flows so well

lovemorestudio said...

A wonderful piece-- the snails sound, um, gross, but I think I'd prefer them to the trademarked-in-a-can Spam anyday. Fun read ~peace, Jason

susanissima said...

Wonderful poem! I was dazzled by the Mexican references, having lived there for a while, and strangely reminded of a shopping aisle in a market on Kauai that has one long shelf filled with every type of Spam a local might ever need. It's huge there.

Mystic_Mom said...

Enjoyed the write, will pass on the tasting! :-)

Seth said...

This is fun, Maureen. And as odd as this sounds, I think I'd like to try all of the foodstuffs mentioned in your poem.

Am I crazy?