lobster brie quesadilla aroma blends with the tinkling of crystal
floating across the razor sharp lawn and over the fence to the crabgrass
getting lost in the stench of week old cans of Bud emptied
and launched against the foreclosure auction sign
“tut, tut” go the mouths dripping with olive oil tortilla
wiping wine soaked fingers before grasping the pen signing
the check, “they had been such good neighbors” lips
speak from one side of the mouth, grilled crustacean juice
oozing from the other and caught with the tongue
“therefore by the grace of God” sneers the botoxed smile
Helen Peterson is the managing editor of Chopper Poetry Journal out of New London, CT, and has previously published in Fell Swoop, Main Channel Voices, Gloom Cupboard, Tonopah Review, Cartier Street Review, Poor Mojo's, Wilderness House Review, Battered Suitcase, diddledog, Hiss Quarterly, Right Hand Pointing, Juked, Elimae, Haruah, Zygote in My Coffee, Pedestal Magazine (book review), Literary Fever, Debris Magazine, and Poetrybay, among others. Currently she has work in Girls With Insurance, Moronic Ox, Maintenant Quatre, and will have work in the upcoming issues of Southword Journal, The View From Here, and poeticdiversity. Her work was also featured in The Work Book, an anthology put out by Poet Plant Press in 2007. She just got an email today that she might be out of work very soon, so appreciates you reading her work, and would like a dollar now please.
| This poem was written while watching Bobby Flay grill lobster tails on the Food Network, and trying to think of a new way to serve hamburger meat. |
