NaPoWriMo #30
Okay I really don't like this one, except in parts. But the day is almost over (a long, difficult day) and so here you go. From this exercise: http://www.napowrimo.net/2014/04/day-29/
RECIPE POEM
The month was a fire
I was a matchbook's wife
sulfur nose singe hair crackling
touch the sandpaper
you'll taste what I bake
it smells like music burning
no, the month was a puddle
but that didn't matter,
bitchy dreams nonetheless;
because the puddle deepened
I was part of it
all hangdog
the little baby of abstract
spat a carefulness in
spat a carelessness out
I flew all over it
she flew all over it
the colonel flew too
soon I'll know something
a fiery puddle
you'll recognize all but
its depth of chill.
Andiamo, the matchbook
went away later that day
wifeing babying the puddle.
.
RECIPE POEM
The month was a fire
I was a matchbook's wife
sulfur nose singe hair crackling
touch the sandpaper
you'll taste what I bake
it smells like music burning
no, the month was a puddle
but that didn't matter,
bitchy dreams nonetheless;
because the puddle deepened
I was part of it
all hangdog
the little baby of abstract
spat a carefulness in
spat a carelessness out
I flew all over it
she flew all over it
the colonel flew too
soon I'll know something
a fiery puddle
you'll recognize all but
its depth of chill.
Andiamo, the matchbook
went away later that day
wifeing babying the puddle.
.