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Ode to the Potato (Free verse) by jessicazee

From this plastic dirty heavy bag: mashed, smashed, Lyonnaised, waffled then curly, baked once, twice, stuffed, hash- browned, American fried, French and freedom too, cottaged, souffléd, whipped lightly as it was their fault - buried in coals, en-foiled or bare, its slice raw sparkling wetly a grinding of salt - so hopeful the morning of bacon; a promise of egg, chive or shallot... a brown lumpy ugliness swells shy with eyes and skin, budge buttered truffles what fed my mother's rooted country peel, my father's mess hall contribution, my instant college box of flakes.

Bill Z Bub 3-Mar-09/5:12 AM
The second stanza is fantastic, "so hopeful the morning of bacon"... indeed it is, indeed it is.




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