Aubade from the Milkman
a bowl of fresh
mozzarella
soft and delicate
the curve
of its skin
dewy and rounded
the bones
the arch of your face
so changeable
firm to the touch
but milky-sweet
and yeilding
to me
This one was triggered by a ReadWritePoem newsfeed:
I order dairy for a co-op; I have been following the NaPoWriMo challenge.
Today I sent my poem to the milkman, instead of sending him our dairy order. I turned this “accident” into a prompt:
Suppose you sent, instead of your dairy order, your poetry to the milkman. What would he bring you?
Add a leftover echo from reading Pablo Neruda, and voila! A bit of fun. An interesting little exercise. (Just don’t ask me how hard it was to avoid this turning snigger-worthy sexual …)
As a side-note: I’ve actually made mozzarella. Very easy, and quite a lot of fun.
A Dark Feathered Art 