I love beans, I'm not sorry
The beans seen are tempting.
How I'd love to be fed by their flesh.
To grow them, seed them, open up their bodies,
And one by one, ingest them 'till rest.
To be one of the fabios,
To be one of the chefs,
The madres that soak them,
The children who get
A handful of cherries
Of heartshaped and bent,
Black little beans.
My very best friends.