Fig wasps doing the work for us queers

Crystal Rivera

Meditate long on what it means to be
an inverted flower, top tier fruit.
Grown out of wounds from fallen leaves
deeply lobed, deeply
loved.

Break / with teeth
through velvet
and we’re left with something like
veins, jam
and honey.

But first, the fig and its wasp.
It’s a world he wants to die inside of.
Name-bearing and tiny. Wingless and blind.
In solitude he lives amongst the dark sac of
flower after tiny flower,
digging a hole for her,
the hole,
the weeping eye,
the wet.

She then emerges in her pollen-coated
finery, creating that which we eat,
which we break / with teeth
and worship, like the hot
little faeries and witches and bad bitches
we are.

Crystal Rivera (they/she), is a queer, disabled poet and recipe developer from NYC. Born a Russian-Puerto Rican Jew in Queens, NY, many dishes merge cuisines into poems. You can follow them on Instagram @crystal.e.rivera.