Pie

 Use a glove not a shovel.

I was hell on thistles,

dismantling them methodically,

leaf by leaf. Saving the

crown of thorns

for the final decapitation.

Because.

They speared me.

Demonic vegetable kingdom,

with the emperor poison oak,

and the subtle vassals,

burrs and nettles.

Why do blackberries

need thorns? Isn’t the whole

concept of sweetness

supposed to be:

Eat me?

Okay. I get it,

Plenty of sweet,

if you’re plenty discrete.

and pick between

the thorns.

Unless you’re a bird

and it’s easy

because you have a beak.

But birds can’t

bake a pie, it’s a sensitive

subject actually.

Especially in France.

But I know how.

My crust ain’t pretty,

but my filling verges

on divine.

The soldiers mocked Him

with a crown of thorns,

unaware perhaps

that thorns adorn

the sweetness of the vine.