Amuse-Bouche – Emily Holland
The oysters were shucked,
lined up on a platter of ice,
her hands still salty
with brine when she tipped
one into your mouth.
It went down so easily,
the way warm water oysters always do,
a sweet melon trail on your tongue.
And next – artichokes: she peeled
the thorns away, steam
floating around her fingers
as if she were a heat source,
skipped the inner leaves,
scraped away fibrous choke
and went right for the heart.