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Jalapeño Poppers

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Jalapeño Poppers

Corinne Bartle

I wander into the market
On an early Monday morning
The mist in the vegetable aisle catches
my attention, like dew on an early summer morning
Peppers with a glossy appearance stand out
from the others.
The size of a baby carrot with a rubbery feel,
Intensely dark and mysterious, wanting me to take them
I slice and clean, stuffing them with a pliable cheese
Bathing them with care, in egg yolks
Drying them in bread crumbs, rolling until covered.
They are hot to the tongue; we put them in transparent oil
to cool them.
They spit at me with anger.
The crumbs change and so do the peppers
The cheese is oozing as from a cut
They have given into the oil, and their aroma fills the air
All that’s left, delicate green peppers left to devour