Submerged in its bed of boiling water,
the spaghetti softens
a bit more each millimeter of a second.
Use the handle of the wooden spoon
to fish out one strand,
test it against your bite.
At the end of your life
four hours will have been spent
stirring pasta as hot water convinces it
to just relax already.
"Everything Is a Clock" by Hannah Stephenson. Published online by The Storialist, September 10, 2013. © Hannah Stephenson.Photography credit: Untitled image by Andrew Scrivani for The New York Times (originally color).
Lovely poem. Lovely poet. Thanks for the selection.
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome, Anne. (So much rests on the last line.)
DeleteOh, I agree, That last line brought an audible chuckle to this desktop.
ReplyDeletePhylis, as I slowly meander through your collection I can't help but feel I get to know you a bit more as the days pass by. What a feast. Here comes one more thank you through the ether.
So glad you're enjoying the poems, Dan! You're very welcome. It was a pleasure curating this site. (BTW, if you're the Dan who sent a donation a while back, many thanks! I tried to acknowledge the donation by email but it bounced. If you're not that Dan, well, thanks anyway, because your pleasure is worth much. Keep reading! Deep peace.
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