Paring Potatoes
Paring Potatoes
Forgotten at the back of the fridge,
They’ve gone long in the eyes
Like those of those who emerge
From cellars to search the ground
For photographs the sky took
One look at and dropped.
Some are rotten, but not at the core.
You can pare that part away
The way people cut a substance or
A friend out of their lives.
Then they appear clean.
Some are green under the skin.
For once green means stop —
We’re not to eat those. But you can
Pare them so no green shows.
What you’re left with are perfectly
Good potatoes, cold and wet
And exposed, like people who've gone
Underground not for shelter but
Because they were found.