Between late June & early July (about two weeks) I wrote seven poems, all on a “food” theme; in addition to “French Toast,” there were also the following:
- Strawberry Rhubarb Pie
- Potato Salad
- Pasta Alleluia (a bit of an “in joke” here—a name for pasta aglio é olio)
- Macaroni & Cheese (this has been posted on the blog here)
- Fondue
- Greek Salad.
While I believe all seven are good poetry, I do feel at a bit of a distance from them for a variety of reasons. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it—& hey, French Toast is always great for your Sunday brunch…. & be sure to check out the following other blogs (at least) for Original Poetry Sunday:
Amazing Voyages of the Turtle
Apogee Poet
Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes
Premium T.
Secret Poems from the Times Literary Supplement
Yes is Red
FRENCH TOAST
Goldfinches camped out & hectic atop the yokes of
dandelions asked the musical question I
couldn’t catch—the world grows larger some days
the fruit trees blooming white & pink & rustling with
sparrows— the world gets smaller—a kitchen beating free-range
eggs with a fork in a red glass mixing bowl &
how much cinammon & nutmeg whisked into the eggs these things are
measured in pinches like a dream I dreamed dreaming What
larks! everything’s a laugh—
meadowlarks giggling in the pasture just now
this orange & blue marmelade morning L’amour la poésie
means nothing more than the world transformed thru a lonesome
Hank Williams’ whippoorwill yodel or the paired low C’s vibrating
over a mandocello’s mahogany soundboard
a scrumptious breakfast with sunshine
pouring Grade A fancy amber through the matchstick blinds a peal of
lovely laughter a rupture in the world’s brown eggshell—
the world grows large again back at the ranch I’m
dipping wheat bread into the egg mixture the unsalted
butter skating across the cast-iron skillet the egg-soaked bread
sizzles in goldenly—& orange wedges drip on blue plates my blue
heart my red heart my golden heart opens & closes &
shrinks & grows— the world I know the people I
hold in my heart as it grows & breaks—the
world is el corazón in a Mexican painting the
brown eggshell broken & full & inscribed—the
goldfinches scattering into the blue from the blossoms &
the French Toast’s served with Grade A fancy
light amber like a window—the golden crust this morning
is everyone’s sweet eggshell heartache
John Hayes
© 2008-2009