Sushi

Eat it
like a log tipping over the edge of Niagara
like a husk of corn, scrumped from a field
like an archer’s arrow in a red circle
like a bird’s catch too big for its beak.

There is something surgical
about a pea held between two chopsticks
there is some philosophy
if you change it to a rice grain.

There is something make believe
there is some pretending
some Alice in the size of the cups
as if the bowls, the plate, the food
were all made from a daydream.