Ginger

We’ll affirm its arrival

when it’s not in the titles

of recipes in which it figures

quietly, as moderate slivers.

When it’s always available,

not lumped with root vegetables

nor flecked with blue mold.

When everyone knows

not to bite the large pieces.

When everyone preaches

the best means of peeling

(knife, spoon, or not-peeling)

and disagrees, without violence.

When its unexpected absence

causes fundamental hunger

but it’s like running out of sugar:

you can ask any neighbor.

When the nation remembers

how it treated as barbaric

the eaters of garlic

as they fled persecution

and sees its reflection

in black-and-white photos

of  mobs against risotto.