Something I Ate

p
o
e
m
s

Jemima jawing at me in the dark,

the box of mix thumping and jumping

on the table in tune to her swiveling hips,

setting my dream kitchen aglow with

a grin as bright as Jeanne Crain’s pinky ring.

I don’t want to hear anything she’s got to say.

I know she’s no good, can’t be trusted

near buttermilk and a mixing bowl.

Slick as bacon grease sizzling

on a cast iron skillet,

she’ll say anything until you turn her loose,

star-crossed prisoner of cardboard, corn syrup solids

and yellow dye Number 5.


She’s lost her kerchief and a few dozen pounds

but she’s half witch and I know it —

no stack of pancakes in all the world

can make me change my mind.

Jabari Asim is the author of the forthcoming books Sing It Like A God and Stop and Frisk.

You Might Also Enjoy

Standstill

January Gill O’Neil

The killdeer build their nest along the gravel drive. Small,
long-legged birds, the pair of them guarding their clutch of. . .

poems

Experts are Puzzled

Laura Riding

Experts are puzzled by the legacy for the purpose of the handing down of which we seem to exist successively and respectively.

poems

Further Reading

Heads Up: We recently updated our privacy policy to clarify how and why we collect personal data. By using our site, you acknowledge that you have read and understand this policy.