In those formative years,
we had to sneak to bed,
wait for morning’s slow sprout.

We grew separated
by spade, soft
as mush, new spuds

underground, and emerged
rough-peeled in the other’s palm,
became those rough ovate shapes

we’ve come to recognize
as something good,
not good for you,

but nonetheless
a staple of
a balanced diet.

(originally published in The Icarus Anthology, Summer 2017)