Garlic can't help itself

The purifying talisman

with its raw body
yanked from the dirt
garlic can’t help but
announce itself: 
a heady pungency 
sharp, 
reaching.
this is 
the purifying talisman,
rejecting malevolence
before it is wrested 
from its papery cocoon.

chemistry and 
brute strength
waken its true measure,
oily allicin oozing off 
the blade.
thrust into 
the murmuring oil,
heat softens its bite,
breaks down its
aggressions,
makes ready its 
creamy sweet 
seduction
at last.

“Too lazy to peel fresh? You don’t deserve to eat garlic.”

—Anthony Bourdain

Poem 17 of 31 in the series “The Liminal Season.”

Today’s poem prompt was “garlic” from Mike, who grows it in his garden every year.