Friday, February 1, 2013


Pickles lead mysterious lives,                                                     
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trolling the briny depths.
They seem content.

Shoulder to shoulder
tightly packed,
treading their bracken aquarium.

The pickle fisherman
descends two brave fingers
into the cold green waters.

The angler tastes sweet and salt
herb and spice
chilly present and summer past.

In a previous life,
the pickle knew warm days
and cool smooth skin.

It lived a previous life as a cucumber.

Everybody liked my poem "Ticked Off" (see December 19, 2012 post) that was about cucumbers, I thought you might like this one about pickles.  This poem bout pickles is from August 22, 2012. 

© 2012 Catherine Giordano

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