Who is it that loves you, Brazil nut?
Surely it is not I.
With your overwhelming nut size
and your taste of watery dirt.
You are the water chestnut in my cashew chicken.
Your place is unwanted in my foods
In my nut mixes
In my life.
I remember you well, Brazil nut
from my childhood Christmas seasons.
From my mom's inappropriate name for you.
From her pewter bowl of mixed nuts
that we, small children, must crack to eat.
You, in your dark armor.
You who never came out cleanly.
I began my dislike for you then as I reached for the pick.
My solid distaste for you when you alone remained
When all hazel nuts and almonds were gone.
I turned to the pecan's hard labor before
I turned to you.
I turned away from you.
I turned the nut cracker away......