“The Gilroy Garlic Shoppe” by Scott Schrantz is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0
or every time I feel
like a bird struck
by a plane & then falling
toward the world below,
I think about the day
I stumbled into Gilroy
known chiefly for its garlic—
the stench of the fields,
the Garlic Shoppe
just off the road. My tongue
ached for a taste:
how much the body
can crave a bitter brine,
be it garlic or bleach
or something more human.
& when I learn
that these plants also bloom
& blossom, I think
maybe not everything is this
or that, my heart the size
of a fist, beat a steady punch
against my ribcage, hollow
muscle I vow to follow.
Despy Boutris‘s work has been published or is forthcoming in Copper Nickel, Ploughshares, Crazyhorse, AGNI, American Poetry Review, The Gettysburg Review, and elsewhere. Currently, she lives in California and serves as Editor-in-Chief of The West Review.