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Sunday, 15 January 2017

Garlic (159 of 365)

Day 159 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day soupçon meaning: "a very small quantity of something."

Garlic

I felt it this morning 
Airing out my pores copped a 
Stare from the yuppi beside me
Her tights taut across her flexing
Gluteus Maximus 

I felt it waft within my nostrils 
Tickling the insides 
With tantalising powerful sweet perfume with a taste I can't pin
Down into words
The lamb hit my tongue 
It was rosemary and the hot heavy spicy tang of garlic in its little glorious white chunks 

The morning earlier
A soupçon of it lay within reach
Of my pores and Palm
Which absorbed it
The week old morsel
Was sweet and fragrant in my mouth

Before that it was in my dreams
My tongue gone rancid and smelly
As though something bulbous
Had decayed on it images of black garlic in Leura in fine jars and tubes

Now it's my future 
Tall robust falafel ready to drown 
Upon the flood of garlic hummus
Minced garlic and white sheet white powerfully raw sharp 
Garlic! 

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