Baby Carrot
by Steven J. Kolbe
In my choppings, I come across a tiny carrot amidst the baby carrots. The runt if you will.
Automatically, I roll it toward me to cut it julienne for my wife's lunchtime salad, but then, conscientiously, I halt. Over years of cooking, I've handled innumerable vegetables, full-sized and baby-sized, but never have I seen one so vulnerable.
"This," I think to myself, "Must be what vegans feel when they see a calf with no dancing room." I think to myself, "This is what the Christians must feel when they see a fetus with no living womb."
Then I put aside my emotional nature and cut it julienne.
Good stuff, Steven. *
A carrot of any other size is still a carrot.
I dice and chop a lot of veggies without sentimentality. Now, I'll have to reconsider.*
I shall be ambivalent as well, anthropomorphically speaking. *
If you can't anthropomorphize the runt of the baby carrots, then what can you??
Thanks for all the comments. I'm trying to post more for Poetry Month. Even though, you know, I don't write poetry...
You made me feel, smile, and hope for a carrot. Love it, Steven.
I did not imagine vegetable associations to be so powerful. :) Poor things.
Incidentally, my wife is 28 weeks pregnant and her one big craving is vegetables and salad dressing. It's a blood bath at our house every night!
Ha. I love your work, Steven.
Thank you all so much--this is truly a supportive writing community. The best one I've found online by far!