POeT SHOTS is a monthly series published on the first Monday of the month. It features work by established writers followed by commentary and insight by The Mad Blogger, a mysterious figure who is in love with poetry and the power of the written word.
How to Stuff a Pepper
by Nancy Willard
Now, said the cook, I will teach you
how to stuff a pepper with rice.
Take your pepper green, and gently,
for peppers are shy. No matter which side
you approach, it's always the backside.
Perched on green buttocks, the pepper sleeps.
In its silk tights, it dreams
of somersaults and parsley,
of the days when the sexes were one.
Slash open the sleeve
as if you were cutting a paper lantern,
and enter a moon, spilled like a melon,
a fever of pearls,
a conversation of glaciers.
It is a temple built to the worship
of morning light.
I have sat under the great globe
of seeds on the roof of that chamber,
too dazzled to gather the taste I came for.
I have taken the pepper in hand,
smooth and blind, a runt in the rich
evolution of roses and ferns.
You say I have not yet taught you
to stuff a pepper?
Cooking takes time.
Next time we'll consider the rice.
A pepper indeed!
Willard’s poem takes the simple act of preparing a pepper for cooking and turns it into something much more, something sensual, exotic, and full of wonder. There is such a celebration of the mundane in describing the act of opening the pepper as a “conversation of glaciers,” and referring to the innards of the pepper as a “great globe of seeds.” These lines are meant to force us to reconsider the everyday tasks we complete. When we cook, we often rush through, working toward making a complete meal but forgetting that the real joy of cooking (pun maybe intended) lies in the act of cooking itself and all its sundry parts.
In reading this poem, one cannot ignore the subtle sexual tension of the poem. The cook (who is speaking for most of the poem) often compares the pepper with femininity, imagining the pepper in “silk tights,” and using “the moon,” “pearls,” and “temple” to describe the pepper’s internal chamber. Since this is the cook talking, it makes us wonder about the relationship between the cook and the speaker of the poem, who we can assume is Willard. It adds a layer of texture and meaning to the poem, but does not fully resolve it. Like much good art, this poem raises more questions than answers, not relying on exposition but rather capturing a moment in time and forcing us to interpret what we see based on our own context.
The thing that really makes this poem work, though, is its treatment of the ineffable. Try describing the color green to me. Tell me what chocolate tastes like. And try to describe the act of cooking a pepper. The only way to capture these experiences is to compare them to similar things. This poem is a masterclass in that, gently linking the act to imagery and metaphors that helps us understand the experience in ways that direct description could not. Believe me when I say this Mad Blogger’s taking notes!
The Mad Blogger is dedicated to showing that poetry is not some mystery. There are no right or wrong ways to read poetry; it is for everyone to read, understand and enjoy. The Mad Blogger is all of us and none of us. As long as people still believe in the power of the written word, The Mad Blogger will be there, providing insight, perspective, and (hopefully) inspiration.