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.