Updated: Apr 7, 2019
(from the NaPoWriMo Prompt: write poems that provide the reader with instructions on how to do something.)
We’re getting healthy
in my household.
We eat salads a lot.
And there are rules for each one.
The lettuce must be Romain
and cut no bigger than 1 inch square
and lots of other nonlettuces
must be included:
Cut the red onions in quarter moons
the radishes in eight slices
like some tiny summer melon
you feed to children
and the carrots
must be shredded—
make sure you use the large bore
side of the box shredder—
red peppers need to be in half inch pieces
but the grape tomatoes
go in whole
broccoli florets never
larger than your pinkie fingernail
and, of course, hot house
peel only four strips of skin away
and slice a fourth of an inch
and if you have them, sunflower seeds
with sea salt that has mostly
fallen off in the box.
And most importantly, none of these
ingredients should ever taste anything
like the salty, gooey-on-top, crunchy bottomed,
they sell at the store
where you just might have to run
to some avocado oil
for the vinaigrette.
Olive oil, after all,
could kill you.