Today's word is
Well, that whole paranoia thing was fun while it lasted, but now I'm quite certain the randomizing robots at Dictionary.com have turned their attention to spying on someone else's life. Still, I shall see what kind of idyll(s) I can scrape together from the blueberry waffles and bandaid peelings of today and get back to you later.
*****
Sunday, 11:18 p.m.
The Idylls of the Cook
are bound with a wire spiral
and illuminated with
ancient egg white, cocoa dust,
maybe a dab of tomato (with seed).
There are tears in the paper
and tears sometimes, too,
smearing the ink,
sometimes from grief
over the cook whose chronicles
these were before,
sometimes over a particularly
juicy shallot.
There are bloodstains
from adventures with steel.
The Idylls of the Cook
are not dull tales, and
are not recorded in a sterile volume
tucked into a slipcover
for safekeeping.
There are fingerprints
etched in beet,
and the DNA of three generations
of culinary adventurers
all stamped in with batter splatters
by cake and cookie bakers
long since educated
and gone on other quests.
The Idylls of the Cook
are rarely hidden
between their red cardboard covers.
Open to opportunity and invention
every day, right on the same counter corner
next to the blender, the toaster,
and the popcorn popper,
the open pages beckon and invite
glory.
Comments