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Douglas Tanoury
Potatoes
I stood before a pile of potatoes
In the grocery store today
That somehow strangely seemed
To awaken memories in me
For they were large
With irregular bulges and scars
With a sandpaper texture
Dirty and rough
Like my father's hands
And in the middle of crowded store
I stood alone touching the potatoes
Running my hands over their skin
Gently stroking them
Caressing them
Cupping their roughness and
Holding them in my palms for a long time
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