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The Voluminous Essence of Ginger by Scott Reid
published in Volume 4, Issue 3 on December 31st, 1997

In spritzer
		it wiggles,
		dives in
with tofu stir-fry
to leave a sting,
		straddling
a sushi roll, ginger
stamps its taste
on the rice and fish,
		but I love it
			most of all
				in gingerbread;
		how it rides
my cheek with
minerals of sugar,
		twangs
my tongue and gums
with a zesty imprint.
When I attempt
to extricate ginger crumbs
from a molar
with my fingernail, it
		clasps my tongue
			with aftertaste.
Even sips of tea
or swigs of milk
		intensify
the ring of ginger
like a woolen coat
		on the first chilly day
		of autumn,
		reminding me
		of my own heat.
The wilted thumb
of ginger root is
		pathetic and flaking
with psoriasis,
but peeled, it rises
like an ocean of razors.
One wing of ginger
		hurries
the paté,
		masquerades
in gelatin with a dance, but
a single slice from
that stringy knot
alone between my teeth
		strops my lip
		with gingerfire.

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