knot here
flick (you in the long dark kitchen, egg, buttermilk, cornmeal, leavening,
a bacon grease seasoned skilled slick as Narcissus’s reflecting pool)—
flick (dim green gradient skies,
silhouette black riverscape, the familiar woman watching from the bridge)—flick
(around every hallway bend, its mirror, every stair, its next flight,
until, God forbid, the uppermost landing)—flick…
try not to rise in anger. think about Kellogg’s inspiration, last night’s popcorn. in the quiet lonely morning, leftover cornbread for breakfast.
2 thoughts on "knot here"
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Love how “flick” moves the poem forward.
I enjoy this poem!