Wednesday, December 22, 2010

pardon me if i sound preachy

pardon me if i sound preachy:

although the soup contains
warm and hearty bits of seasonal bounty,
the ladle is more chilly gunmetal than sweet-
scented sandalwood spoon,

yet i slurp
less out of politeness
than say: ceaseless impracticality—
ravenous hunger is another excuse
for me to use,

in fact, it too was canned,

labeled: never to expire if kept
upright in dank and dingy holds.

if it does,
blame manifest geography
and truth be told, that fucking
awful aftertaste left

of a cultural revolution we endured;
now, i do just that, so i will survive—

buon appetito, countess. gulp, gulp ...


Wine and Words said...

A poem after my own heart. I make soup like it's a vision quest. Love soup. Have a soup bible. There is one, and I have it. I can't stand canned soup. But yes...hunger trumps, and good manners. This made me smile. Merry Christmas!

Noxalio said...

Hi Annie ... I'm glad to hear you smiled. Ok, you need to write about your personal favorite recipe (in poem form), ok? Ha, and maybe I'll give it a whirl.

And a Merry Christmas to you too!!