Your grandmother would say
his nose could chew its way out of a dense fog
or pea soup
or pea soup with ham and alpha bits of seconal.
True, you added that last part
because one of the following:
- You never really cared for your grandmother, but she seemed like a classy enough broad to swallow her oppression and sleep off the entirety of the 1950s with her head in an oven, unwittingly quoting Plath.
- You never really cared for pea soup but read in a Buzzfeed listicle that William Jennings Bryan ate only pea soup laced with barbiturates while getting over the gold standard.
- You think soup and barbiturates would be the theme for the greatest holiday party never had.
- You dated the bassist for the Japanese scream metal band Soup and Barbiturates in your early twenties.
And on mornings like this
when your toast has yet to settle,
you wonder if his collapsed lung
or fear of skydiving ever held him back
the way you thought it would.
Posting this in response to Kerry's challenge over at Toads. The mission, write a poem in less than 25 lines using the poem "A Wolf" by Jorge Luis Borges as a reference. I had never read that poet before and was most struck by how well he captured the interplay of command and futility: how we can be in control, but still fall to the larger swirl-whirl of other forces.
As always, work in progress....feel free to offer constructive feedback on how to improve. All poems on this blog are posted for that purpose. Thanks.