Moon Child, I Buy

                                    moon child, I buy

                                    more food than I need

                                    months later I make discoveries

                                    deep in the refrigerator

                                    I find the onion spreading

                                    long yellow tentacles

                                    and half-empty cans of pineapple

                                    congealed purple-green

                                    the tomatoes are shriveling

                                    back into themselves

                                    while end slices of bread

                                    are infiltrated by mold

                                    the milk carton exhales

                                    a strange sour smell

                                    the orange juice hisses              

                                    when I unscrew the cap

                                    the last hot dogs are lost

                                    in their harlequin disguise

                                    sometimes even a crab

                                    must clean house

                                    I throw the old food out

                                    too beautiful to eat