Veiled Vegetables via Vietnam – Villanelle
They wash the leaves and call them something new,
A paper trail as crisp as morning greens,
The route bends quietly from red to blue.
Through ports where labels change with little ado,
A crate is stamped with different in-betweens,
They wash the leaves and call them something new.
From field to dock, the journey splits in two,
One path for truth, one path for what it means,
The route bends quietly from red to blue.
Inspectors pause, unsure what to construe,
Same roots below, though altered are the scenes,
They wash the leaves and call them something new.
Farmers protest what markets misconstrue,
That price and trust dissolve in such routines,
The route bends quietly from red to blue.
So trade is dressed in shades it never grew,
And borders blur in bureaucratic screens,
They wash the leaves and call them something new,
The route bends quietly from red to blue.
