Books
Clogging my pores
Catnaps squeezes mustard
Into triangle shapes just
In time for Jeopardy
Or Ryan's hope, I'm
Not sure which.
Bring me the mousetrap,
Settle in for tea.
I'll rustle up some scones
For me, we and thee.
Justify the margins,
Edged with scraps of
Buttered crumbs and marmalade
Not enough for three.
Don't leave,
Not yet.
The bacon's barely
Done. I like to coddle
Eggs, just so. In burnt brown
Promises, like that
You made long ago.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem