Although I did steadily write throughout April, my posting fell to the wayside of real-life responsibilities. I am almost caught up though. Only three more poems and I will have completed the National Poetry Writing Month for 2017! It will be a relief!
The prompt at NaPoWriMo today was:
Many poems explore the sight or sound or feel of things, and Proust famously wrote about the memories evoked by smell, but today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that explores your sense of taste! This could be a poem about food, or wine, or even the oddly metallic sensation of a snowflake on your tongue.
Cups Upon Cups
The kitchen was my safe place,
a world away from the world
where hands were always busy
butter-dipping or bean-breaking or
cake-mixing a vanilla-bean concoction
that, even at age seven, tasted like
a dream when mixed with the coffee
I would sneak from my grandmothers
pot in the dining-room where a
white dish cabinet rested old-fashioned
perfume bottles and vintage trinkets
I dared never to touch for the
memory-sake of my ancestors' preservation.
Yet there was always the hot smell
of coffee, Folgers in a red can, and
I remember well how my father
would dip his measuring spoon
into the grounds every morning, like
a magic that would repeat itself, then
again each evening after-dinner
we'd all drink as the day broke
into night sounds and gray cloud.
Unbeknownst to me, I became a
connoisseur of the coffee bean; it became
a mainstay for my memories.
I failed to realize this, until recently,
how well I acquired the taste:
stopping by random campus coffee shops,
stepping into every franchise cafe
that crossed my route between small cities
and buses and cabs and temp jobs, and
how, with each cup-grip, I was
sipping the proverbial nectar of some
days gone long past, the coffee a mere
emblem of comfort, a piece of the
innocent calm my life once was,
a time that can never again return.