Shaking salt into the cardboard cathedral,
or smearing ketchup over last week’s sports page—
skinny, crimped, soft, crisp—no matter
what denomination, I’m a sucker for rewards,
especially when they’re deep fried.
Nothing like grease on grease to get me through
a rough patch, a mixed basket with mayo.
Sometimes I want to feel worse,
before I feel better.
No caloric overload compares
to the French fry turned host,
washed down with a pint on a Friday afternoon.
---
This week I've been struggling with poetry. Everything I try to write feels like a practice poem without heart. Oh well. My goal for next week is to write about small moments of joy. I've written enough cranky poems for a while. Wish me luck!
3 comments:
oh what a nice poem to read on a Friday (saying this as a Catholic)... it brought a real smile to my face
the cathedral... the french fried host
and the thing about feeling worse before feeling better!
I know what you're saying about it being a struggle week for writing... certainly for this forum for me, as I just finished a gigantic mss... and feel totally wasted...
you are inspiring me to keep on going
Go Bren Go!
Go Bren Go!
Go Bren Go!
Oh, Bren, me too, with the struggling. The drain of working on old stuff has taken my energy away from new ones, argh.
This is fab, though; "grease on grease"--haw!
My one and only suggestion would be to lose the comma between the fourth stanza's two lines.
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