OCTOPUS
How did it float into our Dominical day
to appear on our table—Gregorian Chants of its deep ocean rippling
its own opus—eight-hand Vishnu
a floating deity with its many question mark tentacles.
It all boiled down to how to cook it and the answers...
many with self-doubt and reminders not to toughen it.
A Galician chef gives it three boiling immersions for his blessing
an Italian suggests flagellation against a rock
a Japanese flays it with coarse salt, rubs it with ginger and anoints it with sesame oil
a Portuguese parboils it and brands it on a hot rack.
An anemone of flesh with a soft purple corolla
heart of a submersible volcano
epicenter head of converging muscles
the star of its body like a glove it can turn inside out—
its mystery that it has no secret
the tines of a fork just tell its doneness,
on a red sea of garlic tomato concassé
whole and majestic on a blue plate.