Perfect
Couple
One
is plump, tetrahedrally tumid,
crispy flesh the texture of ostrich
and
the color of Bo Derek.
Other somosas are greasy and limp,
like
something flung in a scullery.
Broken; chicken peas of genius
infuse the olfactory cathedral
and
swell like cavern rumors.
After the rapture the plate is immaculate;
the
one gone like original sin,
like
never was, like the dream at dawn.
The
other is green, chunky, and sloppy.
The
lamb of good does not hide or create
beauty in gristle and bone.
It
is mild and pure, soft and sultry,
wallowing in palak
with
protein essence
to
assimilate as sacrament.
The
spinach, garlic, ginger, and meat
permeates and assimilates the mouth;
unimaginable, like the first life
that
bloomed in Panthalassa.
J.S. MacLean lives in Calgary, Canada. He has had poetry published in a
variety of publications in Canada, the USA, the UK, and Australia. His first
collection, “Molasses Smothered Lemon Slices” is available on amazon.com. In his spare time he
works.
