Chokes

I watch him brush
aside thin inedible

fibers, florets from
a thistle blossom

before tasting of
the flower’s meat
how I wish I knew

how to handle
the heart of another

firm beneath the tender
pads of tongue &

fingertip, past
rows of thorned

petals piercing
touch the rewards

of digging below choke
to the disc-like glass

of a clean heart