Questions for Breakfast
There are people running
Around in my
Househome kitchen
Wearing pink and green hats.
They have questions
that take on the form
of breakfast eggs:
boiled, stirred, hashed
double hashed and rung like
Putty.
They ask me,
What is a perfect high-five?
(I answer with my palm flat,
accelerating from
three inches behind the head).
But they ask other questions
that dance in my belly,
wanting to own
truths about
God – the God of Corn
Puffs, broccoli trees,
pigeon politicians and
clawed things.
Holding pancakes over their
Faces, they ask, “does he know
Me now? And how about now?”
And then as I answer,
they draw, with cold
sticks of butter,
up and down and in spirals
all over their legs.
But I have questions of my own.
Why is it intolerant to be certain?
I turn to the ones building igloos
Out of frozen Eggo boxes.
I ask, What do you eat with waffles?
They respond,
Do you have any syrup?
The kind in the lady bottle.
It is good, cheap, and always
Very sweet.
Around in my
Househome kitchen
Wearing pink and green hats.
They have questions
that take on the form
of breakfast eggs:
boiled, stirred, hashed
double hashed and rung like
Putty.
They ask me,
What is a perfect high-five?
(I answer with my palm flat,
accelerating from
three inches behind the head).
But they ask other questions
that dance in my belly,
wanting to own
truths about
God – the God of Corn
Puffs, broccoli trees,
pigeon politicians and
clawed things.
Holding pancakes over their
Faces, they ask, “does he know
Me now? And how about now?”
And then as I answer,
they draw, with cold
sticks of butter,
up and down and in spirals
all over their legs.
But I have questions of my own.
Why is it intolerant to be certain?
I turn to the ones building igloos
Out of frozen Eggo boxes.
I ask, What do you eat with waffles?
They respond,
Do you have any syrup?
The kind in the lady bottle.
It is good, cheap, and always
Very sweet.
posted by Jean Lee at
11:54 PM
4 Comments:
I'm pretty sure I've spent most of my life trying to build eggo igloos and learning to do it better.
I also have noticed that there tend to be little hooks in your poems, lines that clue me in to the real theme, and around which I can build some conception of the surrounding poetic language. Here, they were truths about God, does he know me now?, intolerant to be certain.
I just read this again and thought it was so much better. I don't think you changed it, though, I think I just got it.
your readership/fan base just increased by one. :)
I am so lost when it comes to poetry... but I do recognize the beauty in it.
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