Last Meal by Ellen Peckham
As a child, reading of “…the convict’s last meal…”
I devised — I thought — menu impossible:
late season’s fruits, corn…
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As a child, reading of “…the convict’s last meal…”
I devised — I thought — menu impossible:
late season’s fruits, corn…
She puts out bowl of anchovies
hunk of salami, round of cheese
a loaf of sour-dough bread
Because it’s instinct
to bring a small gift
when you visit
I want to leave oranges for the chimpanzees
in the zoo’s primate house
Winner 2009 Food Verse Contest.
The Ristorante di Memoria
has a zealot for a chef….
Second Prize 2008 Latte Poetry Awards
They’re making a movie
at the old state mental institution;
they’re making it look
like it’s 1954[...]
First Prize 2008 Latte Poetry Awards
Curls drench & I can but wonder is she drowning & is there any once
upon a time.
The river’s looking glass glints ruthlessly northward & there’s tensile strength to the locks.
Postpone your departure love, this may be a miracle in the offing.
I see it against sky, winter
cloroxing the light as I aim
the rifle, each clump, parasite [...]
it must have seemed like a good idea at the time:
to wriggle up from moon-swung deeps, from slime
climb onto rock, grow legs–six? four? [...]
She made us go to bed while it was still light out, when there was life yet
in the wide street below our pent-up apartment and we could hear Mr. and Mrs.
Soleni argue about money as they sponge-washed their new Pontiac [...]
(Note: It’s not about the fat.)
Sometimes,
I have found,
it is easiest to choose
nothing at all [...]