Women, I think,
have a special relationship
with squash.
I love squash,
they say.
All varieties.
The acorn, the pumpkin, the spaghetti.
Perhaps butternut
the most.
They wait to see how you’ll
run your hands over a squash.
The curves, the knotty bits, the flecks of dirt.
Just as they study
their own bodies
In the mirror.
Stripped bare,
Stand and stare
Run hands over every curve, mole, and hair.
How can you ever know
if a squash was a good one
before it is dissected & consumed?
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMnjF1O4eH0]