I said goodnight to the peppers

my wife had prepared for freezing;

on their ends they stood

showing puckered dimples,

reds greens and yellows.

Smooth, glossy

in a virginal sort of way.

 

With the night light on

they watched me

like effigies coming to life.

That night I dreamed of Alien,

woke up constricted in the throat

just a dryness and sense of relief

 

no latex fingers,

no feeding tube,

life imitating art.

If any doubts lingered

my wife would stand no nonsense,

I knew they wouldn't have a chance.

 

Into the freezer they'd go

sulking and fretting

with no way of spreading their seed

safely deprived of razor jaws,

dripping fangs,

as sweet as they could be.