Friday, May 24, 2013

Poem #6

Thoughts churn over and over like butter
thickening, slickening, in such
strange ways. Hard to grip better
and slip from my mind through my mouth much.
My tone suggests they are full of salt -
Sharp on the tongue, alarming the senses,
but no more than creamy milk malt
chocolate that runs so pensieve
from the depths of your own.
I'm surprised.
So many people like salt on their vegetables
so why do they sugar their meat so fine?

2013 (c) Summer Fenwick

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