food pyramid in the backyard 

we worship like blood cells.
float in & out of windows.
follow walkway-stones past the big evergreen.
tip-toe talking. who is a real 
disciple? take turns measuring
our grains. wheat barley rice.
our root vegetable knees made 
of servings. dirt is less holy each minute.
we are going to ask the pyramid
for new teeth & new bicycles
& new throats & maybe a new house.
we want to live in a tower
so we can watch every chewing. we want
measuring cups for fingers so we can
always be precise. the pyramid 
wants to save us from our own 
messy tongues. mine once slithered off
& licked the ankles of a God.
burning hot & sour. i need more control.
the pyramid sings like sleet.
hush. not even birds converse
in his presence. what will you do
with your lack of precision?
it's up to you. you can squander
measurement or give in. the pyramid asks
to see our hands to check for callouses.
we walk to the top to retrieve 
our single wrapped caramel 
for being a good child. place the sweet
under tongue & melt away. 
the pyramid has a rule for everything.
shoes should only be devoured
on tuesdays at noon. a lover
should never be allowed to stay the night
if you are both hungry for lard.
i gulp down each wiseness. soon
i will have no worries at all,
only instructions. a piece of fruit
the size of a fist is my heart.
a serving is always 
less than you think.