#ThrowbackThursday Poetry: After She Cooked You a Feast for the Gods

Loosen my belt,
unbutton my trousers,
release this belch—
there’s room for more.
And how stupid are you
to not know stuffing
from dressing? Baste
the bird, gobble its
giblets; gravy pairedfe1f64b599ed42caf657a7b99a0ee401
with rice; mac missing
cheese; ham baked
in honey; hocks season
collards, turnips; yams
from a can, needs more
sugar, overcooked like
sweet potato mash.
Don’t speak while the
‘Boys are on, spoon me
berry cobbler, pumpkin
pie; pound cake apple
chai sits like a boulder
in my gut. Still there’s
room for more.


Thanksgiving is next Thursday! Are you ready for the gluttonous feast? 

Originally published November 24, 2016.

After Your Neighbor’s Wife Smiled At You

The scent of lavender exudes from your radiant skin,
draws me to the drifting waves of your knee-high
lawn. At risk of snakes, I’ll mow, no charge but
invite to dinner— Two days he’s away on business,
one night to have you in my arms. I dab dried
Lavandula buds to crook of your neck where
early morning you mist essential oils aromatic;
Aphroditic pair folded into molten chocolate batter—
While it bakes, you and I shall lick the spoon.