I have never been impressed by a strawberry,
never been let down by plantain.
The former draped in red and sequins
dripping in mystery and gleaming with allure,
like most fantasies, rarely sweet.
A plantain on the other hand:
boil it, mash it, cube it, dry it, fry it,
in one unassuming raincoat proves why
the Global South should unite.
What the Europeans call exotic,
we know to be staple, to be true, to be home
regardless of root.