Francie Lynch

My Frying Pan - Poem by Francie Lynch

If my skillet's unearthed
Some long time on
By somethings human,
They'd need a rune
To reveal the smells
Of Sunday breakfast,
The sizzles and grizzles
Of that relic.
It won't explain
What to blame
From first fire,
To my frying pan.

Topic(s) of this poem: apocalypse

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, March 26, 2015

Poem Edited: Thursday, March 26, 2015

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