Their yellow-green color, shiny and appealing
The dry hot smell tingles inside my nose
Their skin is crisp and fresh and perfect
Until I glide my knife as I slice them
The heat on my fingers as I pull out their tiny white seeds
They now lay ready to be stuffed.
My fingers feel tender and tingly
I touch my face without thinking
The heat is transferred to my cheek
And I remember those seeds.
At night, not fully awake, I rub my eyes
The sting is horrific, my eyes in pain
A wet cloth brought lovingly by my husband
Placed across my brow allows me to sleep.
I awake in the morning, my eyes are fine
My fingers still tingle
I anticipate the flavor and the heat of those peppers
On my lips, my tongue and in my belly
Yet I wonder why after a long night.