Atop a silver platter from your cherry counter
are three strawberry-heart rice cakes.
I used the finest ingredients in the worldβ
with strawberries and red beans that could
procure a rare twinkle from your coral eyesβ
and plucked, and whisked, and steamed, and rolled
until I formed the best strawberry-heart rice cakes I could.
( But they look like lumps: sallow, unshapely, with cuts on the sides. )
As I hold out the platter, I wonder:
βDo you really deserve to see these inedible, unpalatable sweets?
I mean, I know that mirrors donβt call you Helen or Aphroditeβbut I do.
But youβve always adored these strawberry-heart cakes,
and been as enamored with them as I have been.
So, even if these arenβt deep sea pearls, or the scales of a mermaidβs tail,
would you still love them as much as I love you?β