Eating Poetry for Breakfast

Meeting a friend for breakfast,
having the riches of poets,
we order coffee and open our poetry menus.

Choosing a tasty poem
we bite and masticate it together,
spitting out the unpalatable tastes of the

"It-doesn't-work-for-mes,"
enjoying the smooth sweetness of euphony morsels
and the meaty texture of heavy words,
we chew and chew through and through.

"Have you ever tried this one?"
An unknown dish is offered.

"This chef chooses choice alliteration for a tangy taste."
We chew and swallow,
washing it down with hot coffee.

"Here's another--a juicy one--it's great.
It's thicker and quicker,
the bitter strike of consonance to the palate."
It's a pucker to the mouth.

Hot dishes of poetry
are passed with time
while we are set, settled in our seats, listening
to the sounds of assonance from our filling
stomachs.

Stomach distended, I leave the restaurant
disappointed we had to end the rhymes.
Walking home smiling, I digest
my morning's poetry breakfast.

Copyright ©2005 by Kim Rush