Emily Dickinson’s Refrigerator

‘Twas the vinegar that tippeth

Toward the leftover quiche

Oh, lonely empty bottle, recycler boon

When sun meets to kiss moon—

And mustard, your yellows bold

A bit old, but still at play—

Mummified lime, plastic lined

Awaits blessed water of the fizzy kind—

Four salad dressings,

Daughters of the virgin oil—

Bright Wednesday’s sauce

Must find solace at all cost

Before the scourge of poisoned moss—

A couple of red jellies

To keep a merry belly

Harvested during the sweetness

Of His grand spring—

A dire few leaves of spinach

Must be eaten in a pinch

Or thrown into a stew anew

Cat food can, oh my love be content  

Yet, small miracles abound

In these cool vestiges—for—

Behind the onion skins

And forgotten slice of apple

My hand moves with assured fate—

Look at what Providence hath left!

A cold beer is found no less!

O, wonderous workings, I’m blessed.

 

 

 

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30 Comments on “Emily Dickinson’s Refrigerator

  1. Pingback: Emily Dickinson’s Refrigerator — Elan Mudrow | Meg the Introvert

  2. very well imaged (and whimsical). I could almost smell it (and maybe that wasn’t a good thing…). did you decide to write in the style (as an exercise) or did it just … “hit”… just curious like the cat, who apparently still has food left… (should I talk about slant rhyme?)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Pingback: Two Sad Days | Pat Bean's blog

  4. Pingback: Emily Dickinson’s Refrigerator – blogging807

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