Posted by: mercatorius | April 23, 2010

Love and food

Love meal

The salami is proud of its smell:

the red of meat, the cut of vinegar,

whereas the lettuce is a little shy,

her pale-green blushingly fresh.

The nutty tang of rocket

is self-assured, accomplished,

and with a touch of the erotic

the paw-paw yawns open,

alternating musk with sweetness.

The freshly baked bread

proclaims joy and festivity

through all the rooms,

but will not last

long past the meal.

My beloved’s hands shimmer

with the flavours of her foods,

she combines

and recombines

new species of food

to feed my joy.



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Responses

  1. Hi Mercatorius,

    This is a great conceit you’ve woven into this poem and the simply language (a la Billy Collins) adds to the impact.

    My only suggestion for you is to consider breaking the poem up into stanzas at strategic points.

    Salad will never seem the same to me after reading this.

    Thanks for posting,

    Chris


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