I think we gave up too soon

At Trader Joes last weekend
I was sure to leave the bananas behind
nearly asking but resigned
recalling months of leaking rottage

the weakness of the peel,
pressing into pudding-like flesh
even baked bread unfulfilled

we spent mornings in bed, first meals
with Wendy and Popeye, slumping through fights
with newly broke fixtures
this crumbling old haunt
climbing mountains of anthills
letting God choke on the sink

I walked into that market with the note:
"basics only,
nothing that will go to waste,"

but on this evening most mellow
sausages sizzling in the pan
we plan for an early day tomorrow,
a closing hug tonight,

& perhaps, what is missing
but the tender, embracing flesh
of a simple banana
finally remembered.

Selena Cotte is a poet, journalist & shapeshifter living in Chicago by way of Orlando. Her poems are published or forthcoming in journals such as Peach Mag, HAD, Columbia Poetry Review, Taco Bell Quarterly & others. She can be found online @selenacotte wherever you think that may work.